The One of a Kind Treasure
by Risatine89
Summary: After the attack of the city she had inhabited, Lothiriel, a young elvish girl from an upstanding family from Lothlórien is thrown into a raging river that should have led to an untimely death. She wasn't that lucky…
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

**She** had long since forgotten her home, her ways of life, and more importantly the loved ones that made it her home. It had been nearly thirty years since the barbarians known as Saxons, humans with fowl ways of thinking had found her downriver upon the banks blue as can be, and yet her aurora was still shinning brightly for all to see. Her purity had been a curse, for if they hadn't found her, she could've easily joined the other great elves in the Halls of Mandor. But it appeared that Valor had not been on her side, for upon seeing her distinctive elfish features, the humans, who had never seen any other form of mankind but their own had taken her under their command. Forced her to tell them everything she knew, which by then wasn't that much, for she was still young and hadn't even come close to reaching her minority, but she told them what she knew. Of her home in the forest of the lady of the wood, in Lothlórien, of the elves that inhabited the golden woods, and of course of the magic that elves had used for centuries. They seemed fascinated by her descriptions, and knew by her abnormal qualities that she couldn't have been a nut. She had then figured that perhaps they'd try to help her find a way home. She had no such luck...

"Lothiriel..." Lothiriel nearly jumped at the gruff voice, and flicked her eyes from where she sat in a large tree, overseeing the torture of a city filled with innocents. She had come to a conclusion long ago, these Saxons were no better then Orcs. Lothiriel spotted Cerdic down below, observing her with slight amusement as he always did when he knew she hadn't noticed him coming. Lothiriel slowly slid from her high branch in the sanctuary of her tree and down to the ground until she landed silently in front of the leader's son.

"Why is it you never take part in a battle? You've been training the youngest of soldiers with fever and passion...I've seen the light in your eyes when you spar with them. You like war...it excites you, admit it." Cerdic smirked conceitedly as he slowly reached his hand up and traced the silver tendrils of Lothiriel's hair between his fingers.

"What you do isn't war, its murder." Lothiriel answered back in a quiet, gentle voice, she knew better not to raise her voice to these men, and though her voice was soft, her eyes were alit with restrained anger. Cerdic caught this but only seemed to manage to laugh louder as he shook his head and ruffled Lothiriel's hair fondly.

"No matter how old you say you are, you will always remain childlike." Cerdic snorted as he took hold of Lothiriel's upper arm in a tight grip before he began to lead her into the remains of the village towards the large manor where Fallon was most likely bathing in the fruits of their 'labor' that was fine with her, as long as everyone else was occupied with their own bidding and she could be left alone. Lothiriel noted all the dead corpses still laying out in the open, food to the birds, and a blessing to the gods was always the Saxon's army's reasons. Lothiriel wondered what kind of god would want this type of blessings. Lothiriel paused when she spotted movement in the far right, in the shadows a figure was hiding crouched down. Lothiriel narrowed her eyes slightly in concentration, her ears picking up the prickling of a fast paced heart beat, and small little gasps of breath. It was a child, either one that had been sparred or went unnoticed Lothiriel didn't know. She did know, however, that it was rare that anybody was sparred during these horrid battles. She knew she'd have to get to the child before someone else noticed him.

"Are there any injured?" Lothiriel asked, praying to Valor that someone might need tending to, anything to sneak away. Cerdic paused, seemingly surprised by her question, Lothiriel didn't usually offer her healing services and was usually forced to help the men she had come to despise. And so he was more than a bit suspicious as he nodded his head gently.

"Any of the new recruits?" That did it, any of the children she had helped train in their youth had always been favored by Lothiriel, and so Cerdic dropped the accusations filling his mind and led her to a large hut not far from the Manor he had been leading her to. Inside were only seven men injured, not bad considering they had just wiped out an entire village.

"I'll be back around nightfall, don't go wondering off." Cerdic warned before he disappeared outside the hut's flap.

**When** Lothiriel was sure that all inhabitants of the tent had either been tended to or was sound asleep Lothiriel snuck to the back entrance of the tent and peeped her head outside the tent, looking both ways to make sure no one was around, and if they were, that they were well occupied. Most had gone inside the manor to get warm and perhaps lay in the fruits of their labor, but those that stood around were drinking and laughing with one another making them almost look human, but most had lost feeling long ago. A few to the far right were tending to the horses of the villagers, marking them as their own with hot brands, and making sure most were up to good health, overall they too were occupied. Lothiriel slipped from the tent and keeping to the shadows slowly made her way towards the tiny alley where she had seen the small form of the human child. She could hear the panicked breathing immediately upon entering the mouth of the alley; she picked up the location behind a few stack crates in the far right corner. Licking her lips nervously, she glanced behind her to be sure no one was watching and stepped further in the heart of the small alleyway.

"I'm not going to harm you. I want to get you out of here...please come out." Lothiriel whispered stopping beside the crates and waited a few minutes until a tiny face popped into view. It was indeed a young boy no older than six winters, sandy brown hair, and glazed blue eyes alit with tears. The boy sported a few bruises, and although he was dirty, Lothiriel was relieved to find the boy had not obtained any severe injuries. Kneeling upon the ground in the shadowed part of the alley, she beckoned the boy towards her. The boy, mesmerized by Lothiriel's beauty as well as her bright glow of purity slowly padded over to the elf and allowed Lothiriel to envelope him into a comforting embrace. Allowing the boy to cry on her shoulder as she cradled his small form to her own; Lothiriel rocked his body back and forth, her own heart quenching at the sound of the cries. She would not let harm befall this child, she would see to it even if it meant death for herself.

"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you child." Lothiriel whispered into the boy's ear as she stood up, the boy still clutched to her chest. How she was going to get them both out of there without being spotted she had no idea. She could wait for the cover of darkness, but the sun was setting where she stood, and soon Cerdic would return to the medical tent and find her missing. She knew the Saxon leader and his son would stop at nothing to get her back for she was a treasure, something never seen before by these people. If she left now the chances of them getting caught would be much higher, they could disappear into the woods and travel on foot until they would come out onto a prairie on the other side of the forest. If they made it to that point without getting caught, Lothiriel knew she could get a horse to come to her aid. But how long could she hold the boy before she would grow tired? Would the boy be able to handle the mad dash into the forest?

"Who are you?" The boy whispered as Lothiriel looked down to see that he had stopped crying, Lothiriel smile gently as she opened her mouth and replied slowly for him to understand.

"Lothiriel..." The boy's sleepy grin widened as he nodded in admiration of the name

"What is yours sweetheart?" Lothiriel asked still cradling the lad as she moved to the other side of the alley once more to hide the boy behind the stacked crates.

"Bastien," the boy answered somewhat proudly, Lothiriel nodded still smiling gently.

"Bastien, I need you to do something for me. I need you to keep really quiet and to stay behind these crates. I will come back to you tonight and we will both leave this place. But I have to go back right now before they notice I'm gone. Can you be a big boy and stay here?" Bastien bit his now trembling lip, afraid that Lothiriel wouldn't return like his mother did when she had promised she would return as well. Lothiriel seeing his unease set the boy on the ground and removed her cloak from her body to wrap around the little boy before removing the crystal pendant of the evening star from around her neck, it still glowed with a power that would protect its owner from evil as she placed it around the child's neck and smiled when she saw the boy was both warmed and soothed from the power of the pendant itself. Leaning down she kissed the boy's forehead before she pick Bastien up once more and placed him behind the crates.

"Don't fear Bastien, I will return soon, you have my word." And with that Lothiriel quickly disappeared out of the alley and back towards the medic tent.

**Lothiriel** had been surprised that none of the wounded soldiers had reported her missing, for when Cerdic came for her ten minutes after she had returned they kept their mouths shut, either pretending to be asleep or talking quietly with each other. Lothiriel wondered if it was because she had returned that they didn't tell or that she had saved their lives...either way, Lothiriel was more than grateful. Cerdic eyed the men she had helped heal with a critical eye, making sure Lothiriel did a thorough job, he nodded appraisingly, almost seeming satisfied before he turned back to Lothiriel and motioned with his head for her to follow him out.

The Manor, like most of the ones they had taken the liberty to steal was beautiful, though the blood that littered the ground once in a while and the echoed voices of screaming agony was enough for Lothiriel to wish to be anywhere else. She followed Cerdic to the Great Hall where men sat at tables, drinking, eating, and harassing the women of the village who looked beaten, exhausted, and terrified to death of the men continuously groping them. Most would die this night, if any lived at all, it was this horrible fact that made Lothiriel ill. Fallon sat at the back of the hall, at a private table with his closest generals and advisors planning the next raid, and it was to this table that Cerdic led her passively.

"Father..." Cerdic spoke out, and instantly the table Fallon was sitting at went quiet, all eyes were on Lothiriel as she came to a stop a few feet away from the table; Cerdic continued and took his seat to the left of his father...never the right. Lothiriel eyed Fallon wearily, masking her distaste to the man that had held her captive for nearly thirty years of her life. He had saved her from all the mysterious of this new world she had fallen into, but at the same time, he had condemned her to a life of evil, a life for the damned.

"Come Lothiriel; sing for us...we need a new source of entertainment." Lothiriel now seemed to have the attention of the entire Grand Hall, looking around she spotted the instruments lined upon the wall used by various entertainers, jesters, thespians, and who knew what else. A sixteen stringed lyre harp caught her eye, and so she slowly lifted in from where it rested on a nail and began to tune it silently, ignoring Fallon's impatient face at the moment. Once she was sure it was tuned she slowly walked to the center of the hall, her voice the first to start, followed by the beautifully rhythmic strings of the harp, her body swaying slightly as her fingers danced upon the strings in perfection, the song, something she experienced everyday for the better part of thirty years...

"_When the evening falls  
And the daylight is fading,  
From within me calls  
Could it be I am sleeping?  
For a moment I stray,  
Then it holds me completely  
Close to home - I cannot say  
Close to home feeling so far away_

_As I walk the room there before me a shadow  
From another world, where no other can follow  
Carry me to my own, to where I can cross over  
Close to home - I cannot say  
Close to home feeling so far away_

_Forever searching; never right,  
I am lost in oceans of night.  
Forever hoping I can find memories  
Those memories I left behind_

_Even though I leave will I go on believing  
That this time is real - am I lost in this feeling?  
Like a child passing through,  
Never knowing the reason  
I am home - I know the way  
I am home - feeling oh, so far away_"

**Her** fingers continued on the harp as she hummed, and stopped her singing as her fingers came to a stop, slowly she straightened looking to Fallon for confirmation of pleasure or discontent, she was relieved after she had stopped her playing that the Grand Hall's occupants cheered for her, clearly entranced by the voice they had heard. Fallon had a small grin on his face as he nodded his approval to her, allowing the breath she had been holding to come out in a sigh.

"Of all the lands I've ravished and conquered, she still remains the greatest treasure yet found." Fallon stated loudly, although Lothiriel wasn't certain if it was a comment made to himself or those around him. Either way, the men around him seemed to hum and nod in agreement, Lothiriel made to put the harp away, though she'd rather keep it for herself. She would not turn into them though; she would not take what wasn't hers, especially an instrument of a murdered human.

"Cerdic! Take her to her room...I'll be by later to visit." Fallon promised her making Lothiriel freeze in sudden fear; he hadn't touched her like that since his son had been born, Cerdic and his mother and had gradually taken out some of the lust off of Fallon to a certain extent. Why would he change now? Were the girls he rape whenever they stopped not enough to satisfy him anymore? Lothiriel bit her tongue wanting to cry out and run but Cerdic's grip on her arm stopped her, and she remained emotionless as Cerdic led her out of the Grand Hall and down one of the many corridors to her bedroom for the night. Shoving her inside, the door slammed closed behind her, the light click a moment later told her she was locked in…

**The** sun had long since passed from the sky, the moon and the stars were left leaving the only light to be seen as the torches had long since been put out by the nightly wind. Lothiriel, dressed in a dark cloak, a pair of trousers, and a loose tunic, opened the windows above the desk set to the left side of the room. Crawling onto the desk, Lothiriel looked out the window, her breathing almost becoming nonexistent as her eyes speared the area looking for any sign of movement as her ears were working over time trying to do the same thing. When she was sure she wouldn't come across another soldier anytime soon, Lothiriel crawled out the window and with the dress robe she had worn before, she used it as leverage and wrapped it around a somewhat thin column and proceeded to climb down with the robe's aid. Once her feet touched solid ground, Lothiriel wrapped up the robe and stuffed it into the small woven sack she had found and packed other forms of clothing in, not to mention a blanket for the boy when they were far from here. Swinging the bag over her shoulder, Lothiriel sprinted quickly towards the alley to which she had left the boy ages ago. The darkness of the alley consumed her as she entered, her breathing coming in fearful gasps she made her way towards the load of crates and prayed the boy was still there and well.

"Boy...Bastien?" Lothiriel whispered hoping she had gotten the name right, a moment later a small head popped into view, just as he had done last time, only this time a small glow emitted from the crystal pendant around his neck. Lothiriel smiled in relief as she motioned for him to follow her. Once he was at her side, Lothiriel took hold of his hand and pulled him closer to her before she kneeled down to make eye contact with the boy.

"There are soldiers out there, most are asleep, but we must not make a sound until I say so. Can you do that for me Bastien?" Bastien looked up with wide blue eyes and nodded frantically almost as if Lothiriel didn't have to ask in the first place. Lothiriel kissed Bastien's forehead once more before she stood to her full height and took his hand into hers.

The walk into the woods was silent, but that was to be expected, every once in a while a loud groan, snore, snort, or drunken laugh caused both Lothiriel and Bastien to jump anxiously in fear, but when they found themselves facing no danger, they continued on through the damaged village. It was only when they had been walking far into the woods did Lothiriel let out a somewhat relieved breath before she looked down to see how her young charge was faring. He was tired, red ringlets marking themselves beneath his precious eyes, his face pale, and his lips trembled as he remembered the events he had gone through that day, his eyes showed it, almost as if it were replaying the moments in his eyes for her own to see. She knew this would not be easy on him; it wouldn't be easy on anyone with a heart for that matter.

"Do you know somewhere we can go? Someplace safe?" Lothiriel asked, wondering why she hadn't looked for a map inside the confines of her room. Looking down at the boy, she prayed he had an answer to her question, or else she feared they'd be stuck in the wilderness for some time. Lothiriel may not mind it, but she wasn't quite sure if Bastien would be able to handle it.

"Hadrian's Wall...mama said to go there, my da is there." The boy explained his eyes seemingly a bit more sane now at the mention of his father. That was a relief to Lothiriel, she didn't think having a child with her when she would leave to travel was good; too many dangers seemed to have fun in seeking her out; she would not drag the poor boy down with her.

"Do you know where Hadrian's Wall is?" The boy's answer was north of his village, far north until you reach a grand wall, and then passed the wall was a fort, and that was where his father was, and so that is where they would go as soon as they got out of the forest. As dawn approached, and their footsteps quickened, Lothiriel's heart began to race with the anxiety, surely Fallon had come to her room and found her gone, and when his men would be sent out. Would they catch them?

The moon had long since gone back to sleep, the sun was rising over the mountain's hedge, glittering the large hills with golden lights, steaks of reds and oranges were seen like a blaze over the grass in a blinding light as the two runaways exited the forest later that morning. The boy had long since collapsed leaving Lothiriel to carry him along with her bag of supplies, she gave credit to the boy's strength, Bastien held out far longer than she had expected. Glancing around the area she stopped in, she held a breath for a long moment, listening for voices, silence...

Pursing her lips together, Lothiriel let out three high pitched whistles that made both the human ear and her sensitive ears cringe at the sound. But she was in luck; it seemed she hadn't lost her gift to the horse lords of this word, for a magnificent white stallion came parading up to her minutes later. His nose in the air, signaling his dignified and proper manner, Lothiriel ginned at this, obviously this horse Lord thought it had high standing in this world. Setting the boy to rest on the ground, Lothiriel slowly approached the stallion, waiting to see if it would serve her or run off into the lands again.

"_I need your help my Lord; there are those who mean to kill me and the human child. Will you serve me? Will you help us find Hadrian's Wall? Please..._" Lothiriel's elvish tongue was melodic and mesmerizing to both the child and the great stallion, the horse in question kneeled down before Lothiriel to show his loyalty. Perhaps animals in their world weren't far different from the ones in her own. Taking the blanket from the sack, she threw the blanket over the horses back before softly petting the silky neck followed by the snout. The horse almost purred at her administrations making Lothiriel smile before finally stopping and turning her attention back to Bastien.

"Come, he'll take us to the wall..." Lothiriel assured him, her hand raised ready to be taken, the boy was still in awe at what he had just seen, Lothiriel seemed not of this world and at the moment, he thought her more than an angel.

"How did you do that? How did you get the horse to come?" Bastien asked as he slowly approached Lothiriel.

"My little secret, but essentially I called for him, and he came." Lothiriel answered before lifting Bastien into her arms and sat him upon the horses back; she made sure he was comfortable before telling him to take hold of the sack whilst she mounted up behind him. The horse stood steady throughout this time, and actually leaned down when Lothiriel got up, his way of helping her along the way. Once they were both situated with Bastien wrapped in Lothiriel's arms, Lothiriel leaned down, closer to the horse's ear.

"_Move fast...be swift...move like the wind._" Lothiriel whispered gently, coxing the horse to snort and nod his head before he took off just as quickly as the words left her lips. Bastien gave a surprised scream at the swift speed of the stallion as they practically flew across the hills and large fields of long swaying grasses.

* * *

**A/N- this is my first King Arthur Fan-Fic, so please be gentle in your reviews. I do not mind flames and critical reviews as long as they help me improve in the long run. I know the whole elf thing had been done once I suppose on this website already. But no offense to her, I started this story before I read hers well over a year ago and it was damn well time I published it.**

**Angelique**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

**The** Great Wall, or Hadrian's Wall, the young boy had called it, was...immense, the wall went on for miles making Lothiriel wonder if it was a wall or some form of border. It had taken them another hour of riding before they finally came to a section of the wall that held a large door that was guarded by two men on horses; both wore armor and carried spears in their hands. Lothiriel wondered what would happen if it hadn't just been the boy and herself, if it had been a whole army, or perhaps bandits, what would the two soldiers do than? Would the boy truly be safe here?

"What's your business at Hadrian's Wall my lady?" The man on the right, large, and ruffled asked as his eyes glanced anywhere else on her body but her eyes. Lothiriel was offended, she had hoped these men had more tact than the Saxons, she was far mistaken it seemed. Clearing her throat, Lothiriel straightened her back, using the boy in front of her to hide her chest as she spoke.

"We're here looking for the boy's father, what did you say his name was?" Lothiriel asked looking down to Bastien, Bastien seemed just as frightened as she felt, his eyes were blazing wide open while his entire body continued to tremble.

"Avil Thanos, he's a b-blacksmith and a soldier h-here." Bastien spoke up his voice horse from their long journey, though it lacked it strength, Lothiriel's presence behind him gave him some relief. The two guards looked at one another before the one that had first spoken gave a stern nod for them to go ahead. Lothiriel and the guards backed their horses away when the other soldiers blew a horn that had been at his side, the doors to the wall slowly opened with the help of four men as well as four large bulls, when the door was finally open Lothiriel smiled her thanks, her arm tightening around Bastien while she nudged the white stallion to go with a click of her tongue and they both entered Hadrian's Wall with great speed.

"Lothiriel?" Bastien called quietly as Lothiriel slid off the horse before reaching her arms up for Bastien.

"Yes?" Lothiriel asked lifting Bastien up and off the horse, smiling as he stumbled around a bit from the aching in his still legs, Lothiriel was just as sore, but nothing a little walk and stretching can't fix, sliding the blanket off the panting stallion she whispered her thanks to him and kissed his nose, her reply was a swift lick to the face that caused her to giggle before she pet his neck and motioned with her head for the horse to follow her into the stables.

"What are you doing in here? These stables are for the knights under Arthur's command!" A man with curly hair and blue eyes called from where he had been raking hay into a horse's stall. Lothiriel quickly rummaged around inside her sack before she produced three necklaces, all solid gold aside from the emeralds, rubies, and sapphires sizing up to the side of a hen's egg. The man eyed both the necklaces and Lothiriel wearily, almost unsure if he could take the jewelry as payment or not.

"I won't be here long sir, just until I find the boy's father." Lothiriel assured him, the white stallion now laying his tired head onto her shoulder, muttering with snorts as he did so. Lothiriel withheld a laugh; it seemed this noble stallion didn't seem so dignified now.

"We have to speak to Artorious!" Bastien piped up in an urgent manner at her side, Lothiriel glanced down, eyeing the boy beside her, who the hell was this Artorious? And why hadn't he mentioned this name before? The man glanced between the two once more before a sense of recognition began to dawn on his face.

"Of course, you two came from the village down south. A few others came in late last night...follow me will you?" The man asked setting his pitchfork off to the side, the horse upon Lothiriel's shoulder was still wheezing heavily, telling her of his needs at the moment. Lothiriel sighed; it seemed this Artorius would have to wait a moment.

"My horse, he needs some food and water, will these accommodate for your troubles?" Lothiriel asked once again as she held up the necklaces, the man didn't answer, just opened one of the empty stalls and motioned his head to Lothiriel. Lothiriel smiled as she kissed the horse's forehead, and began to lead him in silently into the stall. Once the horse was situated inside the stall, Lothiriel was given a brush and a bristle to comb the sweat off the horse, which she did much to the horse's satisfaction. Once that was done, fresh water was put into the horse's barrel as well as fresh hay. Lothiriel wondered if the horse was in heaven, for he seemed to be purring after Lothiriel had exited his stall.

"He's a beautiful animal my lady. Where did you find him?" The man asked, as he looked respectfully at the horse while he continued to pig out on the hay.

"She called him this morning! When we got out of the woods! It was like magic!" Bastien called out as he smiled up at the stranger they had just met. The man looked to Lothiriel in disbelief, while she laughed nervously wanting to keep the boy quiet for now on.

"Wasn't magic, he just sensed us is all." Lothiriel shrugged, the man still looked unsatisfied but let the topic go as all three exited out of the stables, when the man had failed to take the necklaces as payment, she had slipped the fine jewelry into one of the tool boxes as they left. He would find it sooner or later; at least Lothiriel hoped it was him that found her payment to him.

"DA!" Bastien suddenly cried out breaking from Lothiriel's side as he ran blindly ahead of her, Lothiriel watched as man with the same sandy brown hair as the boys, lift Bastien into his arms and clutch the boy to his chest, his eyes near tears as he kissed the boys face blindly while tightening his grip, afraid to let go. This was Avil Thanos, at least he better be, for things would get very awkward if it turned out that he was someone else.

"Well...that was easy." Lothiriel admitted looking to the man at her side; he chucked and nodded his head in agreement as the two approached the united family. Bastien peeked up from his father's shoulder and smiled down at Lothiriel with gratitude shinning in his eyes.

"Da! This is Lothiriel, she helped me escape!" Bastien exclaimed pointing down to Lothiriel for her father to see, the man looked to Lothiriel and his smile widened as he took up her hand and kissed the palm, his beard making her skin tingle.

"I don't know how I could ever repay you, but if you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask." Avil assured her his eyes barely leaving his son.

"No payment is needed; any descent person would've done what I did. I'm just glad I could save someone's life..." Lothiriel assured him before she turned to hopefully head back to the stables, it would be a while before her horse was rested enough, but at least she would be out of public eye.

"I thought you needed to see Artorious!" the man from the stables called out to her, Lothiriel stopped, she still didn't have a clue who these people were talking about. The boy was the one who had needed to see this Artorious, not her!

"No, I didn't need to see him...the boy did." Lothiriel assured him, but before she could go another step, Bastien called to her again.

"You do though! She has to find a place to live...right da?" Bastien exclaimed looking to his father for help, Lothiriel wondered how her Ada was, did he even realize she was gone yet? And if he had, had he given up hope after thirty years of no sign of her?

"I'm not staying," Lothiriel answered simply once more before she walked away, ignoring little Bastien's protests as well as his father's. She had to stay away from the settlers of this world; it would do her no good to make connection with them if they were to be ripped away from her in a few short years. Besides, how would she find her way home if she was always busy trying to look after and help her 'friends.' No, that was definitely not going to happen with Lothiriel. She would take her white steed and run like hell as soon as possible. The further she was from the Saxon's hands, the better.

"I see you're enjoying yourself." Lothiriel laughed upon seeing the white stallion slumped inside the stall he had been put in, clearly dozing off from his harsh adventure of the day. Alright, she'd be here a little longer than she thought, but it was best to keep inside the stables and away fro the peasants and guards, better to be alone. The horse looked up from where he was beginning to fall asleep and snorted loudly.

"_Thank you for your help today, I only wish I knew what to call you._" Lothiriel whispered, only loud enough for the horse to hear incase there were people outside that were listening in. The horse knew what she was saying it seemed for he answered back.

"Cyrus it is then." Lothiriel grinned all the while Cyrus gave one nod of recognition before he rested his head once more to sleep. Lothiriel sighed as she sat down on the pile of hay in front of his stall and gently leaned against the wall beside the door. It had been a very long day; a very long two days to be exact, perhaps a little rest for herself wouldn't be so hard.

**"Civilians** are not allowed in here, you were told surely," A gruff voice started as it awoke Lothiriel hours after she had fallen asleep. Lothiriel quickly got to her feet, her vision wavering in a blurred globe as she tried to see the speaker that had awakened her. All she got was a gruff laugh that made her heart freeze in sudden fear. It reminded her so much of the Saxon leader that at first she had thought the boy had all been a dream. But as quickly as she had awoken, her groggy vision fled allowing her to see who had spoken to her, though she had to admit the loud ringing in her ears and the pounding headache was there to stay.

"I'm sorry...what did you say?" Lothiriel asked now eyeing the young man with dark curls and even darker eyes that held no warmth to them, he smiled coyly to her question and if anything moved closer to her.

"You're new here aren't you..." The man stated rather than asked, Lothiriel didn't answer, just continued to stare wearily up at him, not afraid, just cautious.

"Lancelot come! We go to the tavern!" Another adolescent man with golden hair and vivid blue eyes announced as he entered the stall along with a boy a few years younger than his companion with dark, chocolate brown curls and lovely blue eyes. There trotting in a few feet behind was the caretaker of the stables that she had met that morning.

"I see you're awake, feeling a bit better I hope?" The man inquired entering the stables, ignoring the men standing clad in armor as he did so. Lothiriel nodded wearily, she was beginning to wonder just how long she had been asleep in the first place. A loud snort coming from Cyrus seemed to be her answer. Lothiriel wanting to slink back to the ground, she couldn't remember the last time she had truly slept.

"Awake? She has been awake since I came in here, and that was after daytime mess!" The man with the dark eyes admonished blatantly causing Lothiriel to blush; it seemed she still slept with her eyes opened after all.

"Did you know you sleep with your eyes open? I heard about warriors who did that back in Alexandria, but that was only to scare off thieves. I didn't actually think it was possible though." The stable caretaker stated enthusiastically, Lothiriel held in a groan not wanting to go into this. It was common knowledge that elves slept with their eyes open unless they were unconscious, drugged, or in a healing sleep…but she couldn't tell these humans that.

"Old habits die hard when you travel alone. I must be going; I have a lot of ground to cover before the day is through." Lothiriel stated as she gently petted Cyrus's head earning a laugh from the noble steed as to my avoidance of their statements.

"And what's a fair maiden like you doing traveling unaccompanied in these lands? You do know of the dangers the Woads bring do you not?" Cocking her head to the side as she listened to the knight's rambling, Lothiriel tightened the hood of her cloak around her face to be sure that no one would see her ears before turning her back on them to continue tending to Cyrus.

"I know of the dangers of these lands, but I also know of the dangers within these walls Sir Knight," Lothiriel answered simply as she rubbed the horse's back, at the time, Lothiriel was still contemplating buying a saddle for her new companion, or simply using the Horse Lord until she made it back to the wilderness to release him.

"A beautiful lady with a quick witted tongue—it seems I have seen everything now." The man, Lancelot, chuckled as he moved to stand right behind Lothiriel, his arms entrapping her while the stallion kept her from moving forward.

"I trust you know it is impolite to be so forward Sir Knight, now if you excuse me, I have to prepare for my departure." Lothiriel stated firmly without turning around to face the man who was starting to unnerve her to the point of tears.

"You will depart before I have the pleasure of learning your name? I think not milady." The man stated gruffly all while moving closer to the point that his chest now pressed against her back. Stiffening at the contact, Lothiriel held her breath and counted to ten before turning briskly around to the man that seemed to possess no manners what so ever.

"If you do not mind good sir knight, I would appreciate if you take your whorish approach someplace else. I'm not interested in being harassed by men wherever I go, now please just leave me be." Lothiriel had started out yelling at the man, but by the time she had finished, the pain in the man's eyes had reduced her to tears. Shoving the mortal away, Lothiriel clucked her tongue and bid the mount to follow her outside of the stables.

"Wait, forgive me my lady, it's just that—I don't know what came over me." The man apologized as he continued to pursue the lovely maiden cloaked in black. Lothiriel ignored the knight all together as she continued on towards the main court yard that would allow her to leave the fortress, and later the Great Wall all together once she made it to the lush green fields beyond this small village.

"Will you return to the wall?" Lancelot finally whispered, but thanks to Lothiriel's sense of hearing, she heard every word.

"If the gods will it, then perhaps, if my will is done, than nay." With Cyrus' help, Lothiriel mounted the great steed and began her journey away from the wall, and even further from the settled civilizations of this world.

* * *

Thank you so much for reviewing. I agree I was little put off by the idea of having an elf during the middle age times. But if people are constantly putting up farfetched stories of girls from present times falling in, then I figure there wouldn't be too many flamers out to kill me. I do love girls that dress up as men to become knights stories, I'm still thinking of starting one, but I think I need to finish this one first. 

But if anybody knows the titles to the summary I just describe, that, and if they're any good, please let me know.

Angelique


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

* * *

**(Ten Years Later)**

**The** Knights road hard through the fields, slashing and firing arrows at the Woads who had dared to attack a caravan filled with harmless villagers that morning. Children and women's screaming could be heard as they took their last breaths and were granted freedom in death by the hands of the savaged Woads. Galahad rode faster, swinging his sword about as he did so; smashing it into the skull of a Woad about to bring his axe down upon a helpless woman. Bastien, who rode furiously behind him laughed as Galahad nearly fell from his horse when his sword was stuck inside the impaled head. Bastien was sixteen now, and considered a man to the boy they had known for so many years. This was his second mission out, and Bastien seemed to be serving Arthur more than well. Perhaps he thought too soon, for a shrilling cry awoke his senses in time to see Bastien fall from his horse, clutching an arrow impaled into his collar bone as he did so. Galahad didn't stop his fighting though; if anything he fastened his blows to the enemy so that they'd be done faster. It would be too much a risk to stop and help now it seemed. Galahad was right, once the last Woad was slain; the knights quickly dismounted from their horses and ran to aid their newest and youngest knight.

"Bastien, Bastien I need you to stay with me." Dagonet's voice ran out clearly as the giant like knight kneeled down beside Bastien's stilling form. Galahad held his breath as he prayed to the war gods above that the young knight would be spared. He hadn't outlived his youth and it wouldn't be fair to take him. A sudden silence spread across the leftover caravan companions like a wild fire, so quickly that it seemed unnatural. Gawain and Galahad alike turned to see if perhaps their attention had been on the young fallen hero, only to find a black cloaked figured walking quickly towards them in an unwavering pace.

"Halt!" Arthur ordered sternly not wanting anybody to get in the way of Dagonet's work. The cloaked figure ignored Arthur completely and continued on until she stopped upon Bastien's other side and stared down at him for the longest time, seeming as if trying to determine if they should stay or go.

"Your friend...he's not going to – Bastien?" The knights froze at this, some hands going to their swords when the mysterious figure dropped down to kneel beside Bastien, pale and thin fingers going to his hair to slowly caress the tresses back from his damp face. Bastien looked to the voice immediately, even as he cried out in pain, the caressing hand stopped as the hand moved slowly down towards the boy's chest to cup the crystal pendant that had always seemed to glow. Upon her fingers touching the stone, the light seemed to brighten extensively, almost becoming blinding to the knights.

"Lothiriel?" Bastien wheezed out, his eyes bright and wide even if the life from him was fading as the seconds ticked by. The figure still kneeling above him nodded gently, and Bastien smiled and laughed, his breathing choking and hacking as he did so. Tears of fear escaped his eyes as this Lothiriel that Bastien had spoken so desirously of over the years removed the hood of his cloak, or shall we say her cloak.

"You found me...I knew you would." Bastien whispered his hands coming up to touch the face of the girl that looked no older than Bastien himself. And yet to Galahad, the girl seemed familiar, far too familiar, he just couldn't place where he had met her.

"You're going to take me home?" It seemed like more of a statement than a question, but either way the girl nodded though her own breathing seemed to have quickened and it looked as if she were trying to reframe from crying in front of the boy. She slowly took Bastien's hand into her own and begun to sing a song, using a vibrant language Galahad had never heard uttered before. Looking to Arthur for some type of explanation he received none, and not only that, but Arthur was looking at the young girl as if she were Hades reincarnated. How could he think the young girl to be a Heathen? If anything, Galahad would think her to be the opposite of that! Galahad shook his head and looked back down to Bastien, only to find his eyes looking vacantly up at the sky, he was truly gone.

"Lancelot get some rope, tie this spell caster to your horse, she'll be trialed accordingly when we get back to the wall." The remaining knights froze at Arthur's cruel words, and the young lady in question seemed to have balked in her movement as well. The singing had seized, and all that could be seen was the look of disbelief in her blue eyes.

"And what spell is it that I have cast boy?" The girl asked as she removed the still glowing pendant from Bastien's neck before she slowly stood to her feet, her eyes, now narrowed on Arthur never broke their gaze waiting for the other to look away, the battle of wills so to say. Arthur grunted obviously not having a reason, none of them did, they knew Bastien wouldn't live with that arrow in his collar bone, and if anything, the girl's presence eased him into an easier death. They should've been thanking her, not condemning her.

"Who are you? How did you know Bastien? He seemed to have recognized you, how?" Lothiriel smirked but didn't say anything, why should she? The other men obviously didn't recognize her after a short ten years; there was no point in getting reacquainted if she was just going to leave again. She only came because the pendant called to her, it warned her…and she failed. Retying the pendant to her own neck, Lothiriel ran her fingers over the crystal that flared with every touch she gave. She had missed this small comfort of her home, the light flowing through the crystal seemed to fill her with ease; it was a shame it had called to her in such a crucial hour. Starring down at the lifeless body a few feet from where she stood, Lothiriel ran her eyes over the still figure and sighed. It seemed like only yesterday she had cradled the very boy in her arms as she flew him to safety on the back of Cyrus whom she still rode with to this very hour. Bastien had grown from a boy to a man and Lothiriel felt like it had happened within a blink of an eye.

An arm shooting out to her right grabbed her attention immediately, and just as the knight's Roman leader and tried to incase her arm in his hand as pulled back and narrowed her eyes at the offender. This man, Arthur, never seemed to know when to back down, for he was wielding his sword now and it was pointed right at her neck. Lothiriel showed no fear as she raised her crystal blue eyes as she raised her head to meet his glare.

"You lost a companion this day, he deserves a proper burial, you better go and burry him before the storm starts in." Lothiriel stated softly as she turned her eyes to the raging sky above her. The normal gray of clouds was filled with dark blues and blacks common to those of a storming sea, it wouldn't be long before the tears poured down from the heavens to rest upon those who sought comforting. Lothiriel knew it would be a long ride to the next village and wondered if she were going to make it before the heart of the storm would set in. Pulling the hood up to recover her features, Lothiriel turned on the heels of her riding boots and made her way back towards the forest knowing the woads would never dare to hurt her.

What she didn't expect was to be tackled to the ground by the same man peasants had rumored to posses god like qualities. Lothiriel elbowed the man in the gut as she tried to crawl out from under the massive body, but only succeeded in getting her arms trapped by her attacker. Growling slightly, Arthur Castus got to his feet, dragging the struggling Lothiriel up with him. The knights surrounding the struggling pair were no longer starring but gapping at Lothiriel's appearance. For during the tumble on the ground, not only did Lothiriel loose the protection of her hood, but her hair was cast from her face allowing the men to see two very pointed ears.

"Lancelot get me some rope!" Arthur ordered as he too caught sight of the inhuman looking ears. Lothiriel was beginning to panic now; if they found out what she was…they would turn her into another pet, just like Fallon did! Lothiriel shivered at that thought, she hadn't avoided the Celts for a decade to be captured by the Romans! Pursing her lips together, Lothiriel whistled out a sharp pitch that made everyone around her wince. The knight, Lancelot, was approaching Arthur with rope when a shrill noise came from the brush of the woods. Proudly galloping from the woods was Lothiriel's noble steed Cyrus looking as arrogant as ever, at least as arrogant as a horse can look. The white stallion thundered towards them with swift speed, and as he reached the circle of the Samaritan Knights, Cyrus raised his back legs and struck out warningly with his front hooves. Lothiriel took this time to strike out once more against Arthur before she jumped onto Cyrus's back and bid her horse to fly back into the woods and to the protection the trees gave her. Lothiriel smirked as she heard the angry calls of Arthur and his soldiers as they try to rally up a force to go after her. The happiness was short lived, although she knew the knights would never catch up to her, it brought sadness to Lothiriel's heart as her mind wondered back towards the dead knight she had failed to save.

"_Ride hard my friend, they may be as sly and sleek as I_." Lothiriel whispered gently in her Silvan tongue as she prodded her horse to move swiftly around the trees and branches that swung out at the pair from every angle.

"_They won't best me, my princess_." Lothiriel held in a laugh at the arrogant horse's thoughts. If she hadn't known any better, she would've sworn the horse had been a hard headed soldier in another life, it would've certainly made sense to a lot of observations. As they continued their way through the woods, Lothiriel could swear she could hear the sound of hooves coming along on their trail, but how could they pick it up so easily? She'd have to loose Cyrus, he was making to much noise. Pulling on the reins tightly, Cyrus halted in his frantic gallop and finally skidded to a stop. Lothiriel slid off the back of the stallion and quickly motioned for the horse to leave her. Cyrus as always did what he was told knowing Lothiriel would always call him when he was needed.

Lothiriel's light footsteps quickened as she continued on through the forest, being sure to take the route with the most trees as she did so to make it harder for the knights following her to get through. Lothiriel was ten minutes in when she felt the eyes of someone watching her, not sure if it was animal or man; Lothiriel swept up into the nearest tree and waited for a presence to make itself known to her.

**A** few minutes passed before a man with skin painted a pale blue entered carrying a wounded woman who was sobbing into the man's chest. Lothiriel frowned, it wasn't the first time the woad people had sought her out for healing. What confused her was the fact that none of them seemed to ever hold any malice towards her; in fact, she was practically treated like a god to them. Still the image of Bastien's dead form flashed before her eyes, and now Lothiriel was trying to decide if she should even help them after what they did to that boy. At the sound of the woman's painful cries, Lothiriel let out an aggravated sigh and slowly crawled down from the tree. The man spotted her instantly and let out a sigh of relief as he hobbled towards her slowly with the weight of the woman slowing him dramatically.

"Please, she might loose the baby if something isn't done." The man pleaded looking up at her with tearful dark eyes. Lothiriel held in a growl knowing nothing was done to help Bastien, why should she save this unborn child? Her answer was given immediately when the glow around her crystal pendant flared furiously at her, telling her to hurry. Lothiriel motioned for the woman to be laid down on the pile of leaves; Lothiriel once more pressed her lips together and whistled for Cyrus. As she waited for her horse to arrive, Lothiriel removed her cloak and allowed the woman's lower body onto the cloth. Lifting the front of her dress, Lothiriel noted the blood flowing from the pregnant woman's thighs and knew a rape had been committed.

"Who did this?" Lothiriel asked the man with angry radiating from her eyes. The man's own dark brown eyes stiffened into stone at his own anger while his mind began to drift into memory. It was when Lothiriel cleared her throat did he finally answered.

"The Roman soldiers raped her when she went to get some water from the stream. They took three of our young women and raped my companion and left her for death." The man stated quietly, his voice had completely turned to ice as he continued to stroke the woman's dirty brown locks away from her abnormally pale face. Lothiriel sighed as she nodded, getting off her knees, Lothiriel approached Cyrus who had just appeared from a cluster of trees and took her medical chest from one of the side bags hooked onto the saddle. Kneeling down beside the woman once more, Lothiriel began a whispered prayer to Valar as she reached into the woman's womb and felt around. She could tell even with the intrusion of the Roman men that the woman hadn't dilated enough to birth the unborn child naturally, and the amniotic sac was broken so if Lothiriel waited any longer the baby would drown.

"If I deliver this baby right now, I don't know if I'll be able to save your wife…" Lothiriel whispered gently knowing she'd have to rip her uterus in order to pull the baby out. The mother would more than likely bleed to death, or Lothiriel would wait and deliver a stillborn to the parents.

"Just get the baby out! Save my baby!" The woad woman cried between panting breaths of the tormenting pain her child was giving her. Lothiriel looked to the man for an answer, and when he dropped his head in defeat to hide his tears, Lothiriel knew what she had to do…

"I have a blanket in the left saddle bag; get that for me as well as the canteen." Lothiriel ordered the man who jumped up quickly to do as he was told. Lothiriel rolled up the sleeves of her tunic as she reached into the mother's womb and did the first step of the birthing process, turning the baby around so that the child's head would breach first. The man returned with said items and Lothiriel motioned him to set them down beside her. That was when she heard it, the sound of horse hooves and knew the knights were drawing near. Looking down at the woad woman, Lothiriel knew she couldn't leave in the woman's hour of need. And so shaking the noise from her ears, Lothiriel reached for a sharp knife used for detailed carving in weapons and made the first incision just as two knights broke through the trees with their weapons drawn.

"Give me a few minutes knights of Sarmatia and I will go back with you to the wall willing. This woman needs my help first." Lothiriel stated not even bothering to look back at the two Sarmatian knights that stood at a crossing in their decision as to what to do.

"Alright sweetheart, I'm going to pull the baby out…" Lothiriel whispered once the second cut was made, the woman's screams filled the forest as Lothiriel pulled the broken amniotic sac from the mother's womb. Setting the sac down on the cloak between the mother's legs, Lothiriel cut the umbilical cord off quickly before she began to cut her way through the sac that incased the baby. Immediately Lothiriel was covered in the left over fluid from the sac. The baby however, had yet to take its first breath. Feeling around the baby's throat, Lothiriel found the lugs were clogged and picked the baby up by infant's ankle and began to swat the child's backside until a piercing cry came from the newborn human. Lothiriel used the water from her canteen to quickly clean the baby before drying the child with her shirt. The clean baby, who was still screaming, was wrapped quickly in the bundle of blankets and finally Lothiriel rested the baby against her chest.

"_You've got to be the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long, long time little one_" Lothiriel whispered gently place a kiss on the infant's brow. The child squirmed at the touch and tucked its head beneath Lothiriel's chin for more heat. Looking to the parents, Lothiriel smiled sadly at the grieving father for the mother hadn't made it through the birth. It seemed the rape and torture was too much for her body to handle during the pregnancy, and she had lost too much blood.

"You have a beautiful little girl…" Lothiriel whispered gently

"Dagonet! Gawain! Seize her immediately!" Arthur just had to ruin a perfectly good memory as he made his way through the trees with his second in command Lancelot at his side. Lothiriel clutched the child closer to her chest not wanting to let the precious infant go even though she had no choice in the matter.

"Kill the woad while you're at it…" Lothiriel froze at this, her eyes blazing in furry as she pulled away from the approaching knights with the baby still clutched tightly to her chest.

"You will not kill this man; he is all this child has left!" Lothiriel spat out angrily as she felt her heart clench at the thought of a child being snatched from its only family, much like what happened to her. The Roman commander was glaring openly at her as Lothiriel quickly hurried over to the woad man's side. Gently cradling the newborn babe in her arms, she held the man's daughter out for him to hold. The man was still crying over the loss of his lover, but gradually he took the child in his own arms, his throat emitting dry sobs every now and then.

"Thank you…thank you so much…" Lothiriel only smiled and motioned for him to leave quickly as her eyes connecting with the Roman leader's once more. Lothiriel held her breath as she mentally prayed that man would spare the woad and his child, it seemed for once her prayers would actually be answered.

"There's a stream down the hill through those trees, I need to clean up." Lothiriel stated as she looked down once more at her tunic and leggings now covered in blood and fluids from the mother's womb, walking back over to Cyrus, Lothiriel pulled out a bundle of clothes consisting of her winter cloak, a dress, and some undergarments she wore when she stopped in the villages to blend in. Without looking at the knights, Lothiriel disappeared through the trees knowing very well she was going to be followed.

**Upon** reaching the stream, Lothiriel jumped into calm shallows near the rocks and allowed the flow of water to clean her clothes. Leaning her arms on one of the larger rocks to maintain balance, Lothiriel rested her head into the folds of her arms and let out a shuttering sigh. She took a few minutes to compose her emotions before taking a large breath and lowering her body completely under the surface of the river's flow. What she didn't expect was having to rough hands grab her and haul her out of the water making her choke on the water in surprise. Looking up through blurred eyes, she made out the frame of the youngest of the knights, dark chocolate curls and the bright blue eyes she remembered as clear as day from the time she had seen him as a young lad ten years prior, it still surprised her how fast mortals aged.

"What were you doing?" The man asked shaking her roughly by the shoulders making Lothiriel wince at his sharp tone that instantly reminded her of Cerdic.

"I could ask you the same thing." Lothiriel coughed back exasperatingly as she tried to expel herself from the young knight's grasps.

"Making sure you don't drown yourself like a bloody coward!" The man seethed back as he took an intimidating step closer to Lothiriel.

"I wasn't drowning myself you big brute! I was washing my hair!" Lothiriel snapped back before she walked back into the stream and finished bathing. After making sure the sweat and dirt that had been nesting in her hair over the last few days was gone, Lothiriel stripped herself of her dirty clothes and quickly changed into the dry clothes she had brought with her. Squeezing the access water from her hair, Lothiriel allowed the breeze coming from the stream to dry it as she continued to run her fingers to untangle the long golden strands. Finally braiding the front of her hair, Lothiriel tied the two braids back making it look like a crown before she deemed herself ready. Taking up the thick cloak, Lothiriel draped the velvety material over her body and drew the hood over her head to hide from the piercing eyes.

Walking back over to the knight that sat waiting for her, Lothiriel held her breath as both of her arms were forced behind her back as she was led back into the forest and towards the group of knights lounging about as their horses munched off of fallen fruit from the trees around them. Pushing away from the knight that had gripped her arms, Lothiriel walked over to Cyrus and removed his saddle and reins. Smiling slightly and the perturbed look she was getting from the horse, Lothiriel gently stoked the horse's neck before she leaned into the ear of her stallion and whispered.

"_Be free my friend, I will see you soon._" Lothiriel promised before emitting a shrill whistle through her pursed lips that allowed the beautiful stallion to flee into the woods. Lothiriel wondered what would become of her and her friend and knew it was far out of her hands. Hands once more wrenched her arms back in a brutal hold before rough rope was wrapped around her wrists and forearms far more tightly then needed. Being led over to the knight's ringleader, Lothiriel held her breath as Arthur cast his eyes on her cloaked form, his eyes blazing in mistrust and what she figured to be hate. Flinching as a hand came up; Lothiriel readied her body for a blow but was surprised to only have her hood removed from her head. The hands immediately went to trace the outline of her pointed ears making Lothiriel shutter while she pressed her lips tighter together to hold back a moan.

"They are real…" The man stated in awe before he finally pulled away to look over the rest of her to probably see what else was different from his race.

"You won't find anything else on the outside…" Lothiriel whispered knowing exactly what he was doing. She didn't want the man to strip her of all her clothes like the Saxons had done to prove something she had already answered, it made her feel degraded.

"And the glow around your skin…you have an aurora. What are you?" The man asked slowly, Lothiriel bit her lip before finally shaking her head knowing this man was a Christian, he would kill her regardless, but admitting what she was to him would only make him question his faith, and she didn't have the right to do that to him. Though, she admitted, it was quite tempting at that moment.

"Very well…but let me tell you young spell caster, you will tell me one way or another what I need to know." The man whispered gently in her ear, his breath making her gasp in need before she wrenched her head away from the offensive face.

"Lancelot, I want the girl to ride with you." Arthur stated before he left Lothiriel to ready his own horse for the journey back to the wall.

"Galahad, you wouldn't mind bringing that lovely creature over here would you?" Lothiriel figured this suggestion came from Lancelot, for she heard the man snort in irritation behind her before she was moved towards a man on a beautiful black stallion, it seemed the horse complimented the master…or the master complimented the horse. Lothiriel knew who this man was; it seemed he hadn't changed much over the years, still same passionate dark eyes with even darker black curls, the arrogant smile and handsome face. Lothiriel was lifted up to sit in front Lancelot on the horse's saddle, a muscular arm quickly found its way around Lothiriel waist pressing Lothiriel's back far closer to the man's chest to comfort.

"You don't know how grand you've just made my day." The handsome knight's velvety voice whispered into her ear. Lothiriel continued to take deep breaths praying that the ride she would have to endure would be swift and as quiet as possible.

* * *

_A/N- thank you so much for your reviews, you don't know how much I enjoy receiving them. For any LOTR fanfic readers that are reading this story, please let me know if any descriptions I give on Lothiriel are wrong and I'll try to fix them if and when I can. I know that Arthur seems like a complete bastard right now. But to understand his reaction, you have to understand the minds of Roman Catholics back then._

_Let me know what you think,_

_Angelique_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

** The** knights rode hard through the trees and paths along the hills until the sun began to set. Lothiriel had begun to wonder if they were to travel through the night when the knights came to a small, concealed area surrounded circularly with trees. A hole dug into the ground surrounded by large stones for a pit fire could be seen off to the side telling Lothiriel that this must have been a regular campsite for travelers. The speeding horses finally came to a stop and Lothiriel didn't seem to realize how happy her stiff and aching body was until the knight Lancelot had lifted Lothiriel off his horse and set her on the ground where she practically collapsed.

"Tie her to that tree over there." Arthur ordered pointing to a tree not far from where he was unloading his belongings from his saddle. Lothiriel was immediately led over to the pointed tree where she was forced to sit down while another set of ropes entangled her arms still tied tightly behind her back to the great oak tree. Lothiriel winced as she wiggled her fingers trying to get the blood flowing, she wouldn't be surprised if she'd never get to use her hands after this. A campfire was quickly built as well as an evening meal consisting of stew and dried bread. Lothiriel could smell their brewing from where she sat still tied to the tree; Lothiriel felt her stomach start to growl immediately, reminding Lothiriel that it had been nearly a week since her last meal. Well she would just have to suck it up, fat chance these men would feed their prisoner.

"Excellent Dagonet, as usual," Bors mumbled as he slurped loudly at the stew from his wooden bowl making a few of the knights sitting closest to the man grimace.

"We have consommé left Arthur, should we give it to the girl?" Gawain asked shifting the meal's leftovers in the pot with the large spoon. Arthur sighed as he looked over to the girl tied tightly to the tree. The girl would have to be untied to eat and he didn't know if he should risk it or not. Finally deciding on a plan of action, Arthur took up his bowl and refilled it before walking over to their latest prisoner to sit on the log in front of the creature.

"Are you hungry? Dagonet made some stew; it came out quite good this time." Arthur admitted as he mixed the warm substance around in his bowl. The girl didn't move from where she had her head lowered submissively, and Arthur was starting to wonder if she was even awake. Reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder, he stopped immediately when the girl flinched away from his offending hand. Nodding his head with a sigh, Arthur gripped the girl's chin and forced her face up to look at him. The girl's crystal blue eyes were watered down in fear and suddenly Arthur felt like one of the disgusting rapists he was always trying to eliminate.

"I know we started our introductions off wrong, my name is Artorious Castus, Commander of Hadrian's Wall, but you may call me Arthur if you'd like. Now, what's your name my Lady?"

"Lothiriel…" well, at least he had gotten a name from this being; it was a start to say the least.

"Lothiriel, are you hungry at all?" Arthur didn't need an answer from the girl, her stomach was growling so violently Arthur could heart it from where he sat inches from her on the log. Arthur chuckled as the girl blushed slightly and lowered her head in embarrassment.

"Here, open your mouth if you please…" Lothiriel raised an eyebrow as the spoon holding the stew hovered in front of her mouth.

Arthur watched as the girl's eyes narrowed and she shook her head furiously at him moving her head closer into the bark of the tree as possible in hopes of eluting the spoon.

"You eat this or you don't eat at all." Arthur warned her, but all he got in return was a blank stare making him throw the spoon down in the bowl with frustration before he left leaving the bowl on the log as he did so.

"Fine…starve then." Arthur muttered before he got ready to sleep for the night.

"You don't have much finesse with the ladies back at the wall do you?" Lancelot asked with a sly smirk as he sat cutting up an apple for his horse while Arthur unrolled his bedroll. Arthur merely answered his friend and brother in arm's question with a glare as he lay down on his back to stare up at the cloudy sky where a star could be seen shining through every now and then. His thoughts were askew in everyway possible. All leading to one thing…how? How could the creature tied to a tree merrily a few feet from him exist? In all his years he had never heard of a being with pointed ears with skin that glowed like a dimming star. Only one being could cross his mind and that was an angel. Perhaps that was what the girl was. But wouldn't the bible have any descriptions of angels, especially the pointed ears? Maybe she's a demon…though even Arthur had to admit, he felt nothing evil about the girl but how else would the girl explain her existence? She made him question everything he based his life on, his god.

* * *

"_**Lothiriel!** Lothiriel, where are you?" Lothiriel smiled from where she hid behind one of the many large stone columns in the palace. She could hear Haldir's panicked calls from where she was hiding and had to suppress a giggle. When she and her father had come to visit Lord Elrond of Imladris, she never would've thought she'd be running into Haldir. Haldir was one of head the marchwarden of Lothlórien, and when she would reach her majority upon turning a thousand years, she would be his wife, for he was her betrothed since birth. At first she had hated the idea of marrying Haldir when she had been told on her 500th birthday (12-13 in human years). For needless to say, she had her heart set on another elf, Rúmil, Haldir's youngest brother to top it off. She felt guilty every time the march warden would shower her in his affections, for she wished it had come from another. Lothiriel jumped as arms encircled her from behind to spin her around it furious swirls making the young elf maiden squeal and giggle before she was finally sat down upon swaying feet._

"_You weren't trying to hide from me now were you?" Lothiriel bit her lip before shaking her head, a smile still playing on her lips as she did so. Haldir smirked as he rubbed his fiancé's cheek affectionately before he swooped down to kiss Lothiriel's brow. Allowing herself to be pulled into Haldir's embrace, Lothiriel relaxed her body and rested her head upon his warm chest. The beating of his steady heart nearly lulled Lothiriel to sleep as Haldir had taken to stroking his fingers through Lothiriel's hair._

"_You have no idea how much I missed you melethron…" Lothiriel nearly gasped as the superior elf called her his lover. Her guilty heart clenched and for a moment, she broke away from Haldir's embrace to stare into her future husband's eyes. Endearment and sincerity shined through the beautiful blue eyes, and it was then Lothiriel held hope for their future together. Raising herself upon her toes, Lothiriel gently kissed her betrothed's cheek before she whispered affectionately in his ear in return._

"_And I have missed you Meleth-e-guilen." Lothiriel couldn't help but smile at the shocked look Haldir gave her before the beaming smile spread upon his beautiful ethereal face and he lowered his lips to hers in a beautiful kiss that remained light for her age._

"_Haldir! Yrch, there are dozens of them spotted near the border, we must go quickly!" Lothiriel's eyes widened as she stared up at Haldir who had quickly got stoically still. Finally he seemed to straighten, and giving her a longing smile that showed his apologies, he kissed her once more on the cheek and engulfed her in a loving embrace._

"_Gûren ninnatha nanarad as achên len…Delio meleth!" And with that Haldir disappeared down the corridor to meet up with the guard that met him there. Having been told to hide, Lothiriel quickly pushed herself off the column where she had slumped moments after she had left Haldir's embrace and quickly pondered a good place to hide._

"_The wine cellar…" But Lothiriel never got there—a dark glow had seized her and she knew no more._

* * *

** Lothiriel** gasped as she sprung awake coughing for air as she looked panicky around her surroundings. Upon seeing the campfire dimming and the knights passed out about the dieing fire, Lothiriel let out a breath and slumped wearily against the trunk of the tree. Biting her bottom lip, Lothiriel held in the tears that were fighting to be released. Every time she closed her eyes she dreamt of her past, of Halidir…and of the home she'll never see again. A sob emitted from Lothiriel's throat, whilst tears fell freely form crystal eyes and Lothiriel couldn't hold back the cries that shook her body. She hated her life, hated that she had no control, hated that she had traveled these lands thoroughly and had yet to find the person that could help her. Was she doomed to live out the rest of her days here? After being raped, it was the hope and determination of returning to her home that kept her alive…but how long would this hope really last?

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?" Lothiriel let out a small shriek as one of the knights she hadn't seen stepped out from the shadows near the tree that held her bound helplessly. Lothiriel gazed over the knight, taking in the darkish rogue appearance, if she hadn't know any better, Lothiriel would've easily confused him as a ranger. The memory of Aragon didn't stop her cries, in fact, it only made it worse, and Lothiriel found herself crying pitifully in front of the knight knowing she would obtain no comfort from a man as cold as he.

"You're homesick." The knight stated as he sat upon the log their leader and inhabited earlier. Lothiriel nodded mournfully to the question as she starred wearily at the knight.

"How long has it been since you've seen your home?" The man asked gruffly, Lothiriel slowed her soft cries to look up into the brown eyes hidden behind the fringe of his hair. These eyes were far older than the knight appeared to be, he had the eyes of her kinsmen.

"Thirty-nine years, nearly forty…I doubt I'll ever see my home again." Lothiriel whispered gently, the knowledge in her words was like a stab to the heart, and for a moment Lothiriel pondered if death would be such a bad option. Looking to the stiffened knight at her side, she saw looks of doubt and disbelief soaring through those eyes of his. She didn't blame him though, for she looked no older than that of a sixteen year old maiden, if only he knew…she was 728 years old.

"How is that possible? I'm just over thirty…and you look like a child!" Tristan contradicted earning a tired sigh from Lothiriel. Her ways of life were far more complicated then this knight would ever know.

"That' something you'll just have to believe Sir Knight, I am not of your kind…or this—world for that matter. There are things of this universe you will never understand, and I think its better that way." Lothiriel answered wearily in a gentle whisper, her head resting on the bark as her puffy eyes grew weary. The silent knight continued to study Lothiriel before he finally gave a curt nod and drew something from his pouch that was held around his waist. A shiny red, juicy apple came into Lothiriel's view, and instantly the stomach cramps she had gotten to settle started roaring like a raging storm in the depths of the sea. The scout's mouth twitched amusingly at the sound before he removed his dagger from his boot and sliced a piece from the fruit. With the apple piece seized at the end of the dagger, Tristan offered the apple slice to Lothiriel lazily. Lothiriel's eyes darted from Tristan and back to the apple incased by the dagger. Finally Lothiriel's stomach could handle no more and Lothiriel gave a small nod and opened her mouth. Once the apple was close enough to her mouth, Lothiriel bit down and the knife was carefully plucked away from the fruit. This method continued until Lothiriel had devoured three apples on her own accord and finally considered her stomach satisfied and her hunger quenched. The scout seemed to think of her submissiveness as amusing, for many times Lothiriel would catching his lips twitching up into a smirk every now and then, but was quickly suppressed when he thought Lothiriel was looking. Licking a bit of the fruit's juice from her lips, Lothiriel leaned back and rested her head onto the trunk of the tree.

"Get some sleep; we have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow. I wouldn't trust Lancelot if I were unconscious if I were you…his hands tend to wonder blindly like a snake without a tongue." Was it the exhaustion from lack of rest or did this knight actually make a joke? Lothiriel would've smiled if it weren't for the fact that her body was going into healing mode. Lothiriel's eyes widened when she realized her mistake, she had just satisfied her hunger…her body would have the energy and resources to replenish her body. She couldn't be at the mercy of these knights, she couldn't! Scrunching up her face, Lothiriel fought the sleep that was trying to win over her body. And when calloused hands stroked her face gently before slowly moving up to trace the ear, Lothiriel could no longer fight the purr that rang down her throat as her face moved into the gentle touch. The last she saw before the darkness overcame her was the smile the scout was giving her.

* * *

A/N

Thank you for the reviews, as I've said before I truly enjoy reading them.

Homeric- Yes I know that Arthur is far different than other Roman Catholics, but I think we're missing something. Pelagius preached that all men are equal. As for Lothiriel, well…she's not human at all, this would be something Arthur had never seen or heard of. This would question is beliefs about the entire world, not just religion. I made Arthur seem irrational in the last chapter on purpose simply because this is how I would see he would deal with the pain of loosing one of his knights. Lol actually I had no clue Lothiriel was the daughter of Imrahil of Dol Amroth in Lord Of the Rings until after I started writing this story. I stole the name off of a category of Lord of the Ring names from (I cheated) and then later when I found out whom exactly Lothiriel was….I was just being lazy and didn't want to go back and change the name for every page. So readers in this story Lothiriel is not the daughter betrothed to Eomer…you just learned partly who she was…no relations whatsoever!

Perrault – thanks for the review, yea I love the hostility too. I hate it when they automatically make the girl or mary sue adored by all…sure Lothiriel is going to be attracted physically to anyone who see her…but that's just because she's an elf. The Sarmatian knights didn't seen trust worthy to anybody but Arthur and one of their own. So I kind of want to bring that out in this story.

shariena- lol don't we all

Saxongirl345- thanks

luckykenobi- lol yea I contemplated killing the man and having the knights take the baby with them, but then I remembered the lecture I got from my reviewers from my other story about killing characters off too quickly…I'm learning—very slowly.

Don't know when I'll be updating again, but I promise to do it as soon as possible. Until then, please let me know what you think…perhaps what you think should come next. To be honest, I'm relying on your guys opinions, simply because I only have two—maybe three chapters left to post. Kind of got a writers block if you know what I mean.

Until then,

Angelique


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

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**"We** should take her to the healers when we get to the wall; she's not looking well Arthur." Lothiriel wished she could open her eyes, but at the moment, it seemed her eyelids were far too heavy for her. And so Lothiriel just continued to press her head into the chest that was radiating heat, she didn't mind that his scent was a mix of blood, sweat, and tears; what she enjoyed was the delectable fragrance of the wilderness and the trees that was seeping powerfully through his pores. Letting out a content sigh, Lothiriel was allowing her self to slip back into the dream world where she had no problems finding her home when a cold, callused hand, placed its palm onto Lothiriel's forehead, sending a shock of ice to her brain and making her whimper in sudden chill from the cold she shouldn't be feeling as a first borne.

"Halidir..." Lothiriel whispered trying to bring her hands up to touch the body she lay against. But her hands and arms wouldn't move, they felt heavy, lag, and dead. Was she poisoned? Lothiriel felt strong arms wrap around her, pulling her deeper into the heat that warmed her body. Snuggling in as close as she could get, Lothiriel fled back into the dreams of starry skies and trees that whispered soothing comforts into her ear.

**"She** spoke Arthur!" Galahad called out from where Dagonet had the girl clutched to his chest as their heavy paced riding sped up a few degrees. Arthur looked back from where he was riding up front and looked to the bundle in his giant soldier's arms. Watching as the girl snuggled closer into Dagonet's body, Arthur gave a slight nod of understanding; inside however, he was relieved to see that the girl had not died on him during the night.

Unfortunately for them and the knights, the sun would be setting soon and they were still a little less than a day's ride away from the wall, there was no way their prisoner would get the treatment she needed this night. The girl's state of unconsciousness was still a bewildering factor for Arthur. One moment she was glaring and being a stubborn horse, the next, slumped back against the tree breathing so shallowly, it was hard to tell the girl was even alive.

"We will make camp in the next thick brush we pass." Arthur ordered while Tristan, who led the caravan of knights, nodded his head in understanding and immediately quickened his pace to scout ahead and make sure the roads and forestry they would be staying in was clear of all dangers.

"What about Percival and Kay? Wouldn't they be wondering where we are?" Bors grunted from where he road beside Dagonet.

"I don't want to risk traveling during the knight with her unconscious, if we stop now, it will give a chance to set camp and perhaps find some herbs that will reduce the fever." Arthur yelled in reply over the ruckus of the galloping hooves.

"Why are we doing all of this Arthur, she's just a prisoner?" Arthur glanced at Lancelot before frowning in though, why was he doing out of this for the little spell caster? Glancing over his shoulder to look at the girl in Dagonet's arms only made his frown deepen. It didn't matter, God set this girl in his paths for a reason and he would be sure to find out why soon enough.

"Its clear ahead Arthur!" Yelled Tristan from down the trail.

* * *

**Lothiriel** gasped in the cold, humid air of Britain as she finally came to consciousness sometime the next evening. Lothiriel's body stiffened when she felt the ever present heat of a body lying far closer to her own then for her own comfort. But one thing was certain to the elf, her hands were no longer bound, nor was any other part of her body that she could feel as of yet. Holding her breath for what felt like the longest time, Lothiriel allowed her sensitive hearing to come into play as she listened around for any forms of irregular breathing or shuffling to signal out that anyone was awake. When she was satisfied that she was indeed the only one of the caravan to be awake, Lothiriel moved her body slowly with every agonizing inch praying that none of the knights would wake and see her no longer asleep. Much to Lothiriel's displeasure and grief, it seemed she had been placed to sleep between both Lancelot and the Castus leader. Not only that, but her ankles had been bound and the rope was staked to a sword that had been pummeled into the rich soil beneath the ground; it didn't look like it was going anywhere anytime soon. Lothiriel seethed silently as she leaned over the tight knotting that looked like it would take hours to untie; it seemed these knights thought of everything.

Warming her chaffed hands together for some added feeling and warmth against the cold night air, Lothiriel set to working on the impossibly knotted rope. As the minutes dragged on into hours within Lothiriel's panicked mind, her fingers went from being rope burnt and raw to bloody and painful. Her palms dripped with the blood that ran from her busted fingers, and while her hands were injured from hard work, it felt as though the ties around her feet hadn't loosened an inch. A large groan and some snorting noise that was followed by a disgusting fart from across the camp not only made Lothiriel stop in her task, but even during that dangerous moment, the young elf had to actually stifle a laugh from waking the others. Shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, Lothiriel went back to trying to work through the knots.

"You know…Tristan tied those himself, and I know for a fact, that the only way to get them undone again is to cut the binding very, very carefully." A sultry voice whispered into Lothiriel's ear, making her gasp in both surprise, pleasure, above all, fear. An arm wrapped tightly around her waist, forcing her to lie back down. Lothiriel tried to force away from the offending touch, but as a second one came around to join the first, the body heat the mortal's body gave her seemed far more than appealing to her.

"That's it…rest now my little angel, I will take care of thee." The voice continued until Lothiriel rested her head on a strong, warm, chest knowing she felt better that she laid in Lancelot's arms, rather than Arthur's.

"I just want to go home…" Lothiriel whimpered, now finding herself lethargic as she was led into the smell and feel of another man. Thinking immediately of Halidir, the one that she loved, the one she still longed to hold at her side. Silent tears ran from glazed blue eyes to run down pale cheeks and off the chin into the fabric of the one she laid on. Lothiriel made no motion to stop and for once she did not intend to stop her mourning, the dream had been too real, and her love so close, to touch, to hold, to kiss, and even more to love.

**Lancelot** lay stiffly on the ground listening to the soft sobs of the beautiful angel that had descended down from heaven and into his awaiting arms. A selfish part of him didn't care, all he wanted was sleep and perhaps a little sexual satisfaction in a warm bed at the wall, but a part of his heart spared only for his loved ones was breaking at the sound of these mewling wails. Tightening his hold on the blonde maiden, Lancelot pressed a chaste kiss on the back of the girl's head and tucked the frail body beneath his chin swaying the girl to sleep. It wasn't until the cries died down a while later did Lancelot look up and realize he had been watched the entire time by Arthur who lay silently beside him.

"Her hands will need tending to at first light." Arthur grumbled tiredly not caring to argue his show of mercy for their prisoner. If anything, Arthur was touched by the fact one of his knights still showed tenderness for anyone other than each other. Lancelot merely nodded, still unsure of how to react of being caught in an act of compassion. Arthur answered for him however as he rolled over to his side, his back facing his second in command as he did so. Lancelot let out a small sigh of relief and held the prisoner closer to his touch, kissing the top of her head once more; Lancelot finally settled down and dove into his own sleep, dreams filled of home, love, and a future of a beautiful blonde bride.

* * *

** Lothiriel** woke with the clinking and clanging of the knights packing up to leave. Breathing in the morning dew and fresh forestry with calming breaths, Lothiriel's senses awoke like a wild fire. Slowly sitting up as the ache in her hands becomes prominent; she wasn't too surprised to find dry blood but no wounds on her hands. The only problem now was explaining the blood to the knights without causing a riot.

"Good you're awake; Dagonet will attend the wounds on your hands." Arthur stated firmly as he gave Lothiriel a pointed look, obviously a reprimand for trying to escape the previous night. The Valor must hate her; that was the only conclusion Lothiriel could come up with as the giant knight approached her with a small chest in hand. How was she supposed to explain the non existent wounds? As the giant bent down beside Lothiriel, the elf quickly clutched her hands to her chest trying to think of a way to avoid this.

"We don't want your hands to become infected do we?" The man whispered gruffly as he wetted a towel after already seeing the crusted blood covering Lothiriel's hands with his water sack.

"I don't need my hands mended, they're fine." Lothiriel replied gently as she shook her head no, her body trembling as she knew this wouldn't stop the giant if he wanted to see behind her lie. Even worse, the Castus leader would probably drive further to seek the truth.

"You have no choice in the matter; now let him mend your hands." Lancelot who stood saddling his horse near the other end of the camp shouted out as he pulled the mounted strap down. Knowing she wouldn't have a choice in the matter and that they were bound to find out anyway, Lothiriel extended her hands and allowed the man to gently scrub the dried blood and dirt away. The man's blue eyes seemed to widen further and further until he was completely gapping opening at the perfectly unblemished hand still damp from the water dripping from the tips of her fingers. Clenching her two small hands into shaking firsts, Lothiriel bit her lip and closed her eyes, waiting for the questions and acquisitions to be fired at her at any given moment.

"You're fine…" was the only thing that that managed to spill from the shaking man's lips

"Aye." Lothiriel answered monotonously

"Had you been injured before?" Dagonet asked his face just as bewildered as before

"Aye…" Lothiriel answered again finally lifting her eyes up to make eye contact with the giant Sarmatian. Dagonet didn't say anything for the longest time, but after a while of contemplating what to do next, he finally nodded, took out his dagger, and with great precision, he cut the ropes holding Lothiriel's ankles hostage.

"Best get you onto a horse, we are expected to arrive at the fort around late afternoon, plenty of time left to clean up and head to the tavern for a night of celebration!" Lancelot announced cheekily as he came to the side of Dagonet to see how his friend was doing with healing their newest companion along the road for the journey home. As soon as he stopped his useless ramblings, he had looked down to expect to Dagonet's work, only to find a hand void of any scarring, wounds, or hard labor combined. Frowning as he lowered himself to his haunches, he grasped Lothiriel's right wrist and yanked it towards his face for a better inspection. Either the girl was leaving something out, or Dagonet had advanced to inhumane healings in his practice of medicine.

"It's—it's in my blood, our immune system forces our bodies healing to be faster than a human's—it keeps us from getting sick or dying." Lothiriel stammered cautiously as she slowly took her hand back away from Lancelot's grasp and moved slightly away from the two knights. The two knights shared a silent anxious look between one another before Lancelot frowned, took hold of Lothiriel and hauled her to her feet. New bindings were automatically wrapped around her wrists that were forced behind her back before she was led once again to Lancelot's black steed. Being lifted by the waist, Lancelot gently set her down at the front end of the saddle before quickly taking up residence behind her once more.

"So, did you sleep well last night my lady?" Lancelot asked, obviously trying to break the ice barrier of silence whilst the other knights gathered their belongings and too mounted their horses sprawled around the campsite in various place.

"I think you know the answer to that sir knight." Lothiriel bit back harshly as she turned her sites towards the front of the horse in trying to pretend the knight wasn't there. Lancelot was silent for the remainder of the pack of the camp, and as the knights began to travel at a panting speed, the dread within Lothiriel's heart filled her once more. The questions of what was to come when she got to Hadrian's Wall, and would she survive this imprisonment as she had before with the Saxons.

"Have you ever been to Hadrian's Wall my lady?" Lancelot called above the high winds that throttled against them as they continued to travel at a quick gallop through the long grassed hills of Britain. Lothiriel bit her lip as she thought back at her first hours of freedom from the Saxons, and the boy she had saved only to have just lost in the long run.

"Yes—I believe I've crossed paths with Hadrian's Wall once in my life Sir Knight." Lothiriel answered truthfully as she turned to look towards the forests they had just passed through.

"I'm quite sure I would've recognized you if you had passed through Hadrian's Wall my Lady, tell me, have we met before?" Lancelot asked, his lips gently pressed against the width of her hood as he asked so.

"No, we've never met before." Lothiriel lied, her words stern and harsh even to her own ears. Lancelot deemed her harsh answerer a worthy enough reason to stay silent for the rest of the ride towards Hadrian's Wall, and just as the sun was falling down into the western fields did they finally arrive to the dreadful wall of the Roman fortress. Upon entering the walls, the Roman commander and all six of the Sarmatian Knights were greeted with the welcomed cheer of the people within the walls. Stopping in front of a man that seemed almost familiar to Lothiriel, Lancelot quickly dismounted along with the other seven men.

"Welcome back Arthur, Knights." The joyful man with the curly hazel brown locks greeted, and that was when it hit her, those joyful blue eyes belonged to the same man who had housed her and Cyrus all those years ago when she had first brought Bastien to the wall. Lothiriel didn't get a long time to ponder as she was roughly pulled off Lancelot's horse by the Roman Commander's callused, rough hand.

"Did Kay and Percival arrive safely with Bastien?" Arthur asked Jols; all the while tugging Lothiriel further from the other knight's and towards a large tomb like building that had to be in the heart of the fortress.

"Aye, tis a shame that boy had to leave so soon—he would've been a legend." Jols stated mournfully before he took hold of the reins belonging to Arthur's horse and began to lead the white stallion away. Arthur's grip on Lothiriel's arms tightened immensely before she was dragged inside the tomb like building and led down one of the many corridors and down a set of concrete stairs. She knew instantly what this Roman Commander intended to do once she realized she was indeed in a dungeon. The man had meant what he said the moment he had ordered her capture in the first place; she would indeed be trialed as a spell caster. Terror overwhelmed as she realized the further he led her, the sparser any source of light seemed to be.

"You will stay here while the five Lords of the wall have been summoned for your trial. I suggest you pray during this time, for I fear these may be your last days if you don't explain who and what you are to me soon." Arthur told her sternly as she was led to the furthest cell in the small dungeon, her binds were cut before she was thrown and locked into the tiny cell with only a small torch lighting her world. But the dread became overpowering when she realized this man was going to take the torch with him, she would be left in darkness and she didn't know for how long.

Out of all the terrors in the world, it had always been the encased darkness that she feared most...

* * *

**The** burial ceremony took place the evening two days after the knights' arrival at the wall, all eight knights, their commander, and a few other villagers surrounded the mound of dirt where a short sword was staked into the soil as a reminder of the life he lived, as well as the people he served.

It was still hard for Arthur to accept the death of Bastien, or any of his knights or that matter, but Bastien, that boy had a fire in him that showed through the passion of battle. He fought not for Rome, but for Britain and the hope that one day Woad and Roman settlers could get along as his parents had. Bastien should not have been taken from his earth for decades past his own death.

Arthur had been heading back to the tavern for a late dinner with Lancelot when he was approached by one of the Roman guards he had ordered to stand guard outside the main entrance to the prison. The man keeled over out of breath as he clutched and leaded into the spear he had been carrying before he was finally able to gain control of himself and straightened his form into a more dignified upright position.

"My Lord, you might want to come down to the holding cells sire—the prisoner has gone barmy. She's screaming in a tongue we can't comprehend…and when Avictus went down there to give her some water, the poor lad ran back screaming saying the lady had bloodied herself to a pulp." Arthur frowned at the news before quickly dismissing the soldier to go back to his post, stating that he would be there in a few minutes.

"Do you think it's possible that she's faking it?" Arthur asked looking to Lancelot for a bit of guidance. The plan was to leave the girl in an isolated cell for a couple days with no human contact aside from the delivery of bread and water in hopes of breaking her down so that they may get some answers out of her before her trial. It seemed he did more than break her down if the Roman guard's tale was anything to go by.

"The only thing I can say is go and see for yourself. If it is an act, I'm sure you'd be able to tell right away, but if it's not, get her out of there before she ends up killing herself." Arthur nodded at Lancelot's guidance before both men headed in the direction of the prison kept hidden beneath the fortress. As they came to the stairway where both Roman guards stood guarding the entrance, the screams the guard had talked about became very clear to both knights.

They could not forlorn what they would find when the lit torch filled the small cell containing the young lady….

* * *

A/N

Sorry it took so long to update, my computer crashed on me so my three chapters were deleted. I pretty much no where I want to go, but since my words are lost to me I'm pretty much working from scratch from now on. So your ideas and opinions would mean the most to be right now.

And thank you so much for all your reviews; you don't realize how much I enjoy reading your feedback. I'll try updating by March at the lasted, but it all depends how quickly I can put my ideas into words.

Thank you,

Angelique


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

**When** both Lancelot and Arthur had gotten enough light into the small cell in which Lothiriel was bound to, they were both shocked to see the quivering mess that lay before them. The girl had pressed herself into the furthest corner, and was rocking back and fourth whilst she pulled on her hair. Strands of hair lay in various chucks around the cell floor, and from the blood that was attached to them, they supposed the girl had pulled the clumps of hair from the root. Not only that, but streaks and sprits of blood were smeared on the walls as well as the floor—what the hell had happened?

"Lothiriel," Arthur slightly croaked, truly nauseated by the site he was starring at. When the girl made no notion to look at him, only continued her muttering in a tongue they could not comprehend, Arthur ordered for Lancelot to retrieve the key for the cell from the guard at post outside of the prison.

"Lord, please forgive me—I did not foresee the destruction of this lost soul…" Arthur whispered as he continued to observe the breaking of their prisoner. When Lancelot returned, Arthur quickly took the keys from his fellow knight and opened the door to the cell. The girl seemed off in her own world as Arthur approached her and kneeled down beside the captive. After handing his torch off to Lancelot, Arthur took hold of the girl's soldiers, and stopped her rocking motions.

The words coming from the parched and cracked lips halted and for a moment, Arthur pondered if the girl was returning to her senses, only to shrink back when the girl began shrieking and crying in that unique tongue of hers. Running a hand through her sweat and grime matted hair; Arthur pulled her so that her head rested against his shoulder, his body muffling her distressed cries as he did so.

"Shhhh, calm down my lady—all will be well." Arthur assured her, realizing his words were having no soothing effect, Arthur stood up with the girl still cradled in his arms and carried her out of the cell. Lancelot fell into pace behind him as they made it up the stairs and out of the dungeons, taking a sharp right once they passed the guards, Arthur continued down the corridor until they came upon a staircase that led him upstairs and eventually to his quarters.

"Are you sure it's wise to take her up here?" Lancelot asked curiously as they entered Arthur's bedroom. Arthur ignored him for the time being and placed the disgruntled girl on his bed. It was almost as if a spell had come off of her, for the moment she was out of the depths of the dungeons, the girl had silenced her screams and settled down.

"Lancelot, find a servant and tell them to bring the water for a bath." Arthur ordered as he looked over the various wound that littered the catatonic girl's body. Lancelot stood hesitant for a moment before he finally gave in to his commander's orders and left Arthur's room to hunt down one of the many servants that worked within the fortress. Once the door had been closed, Arthur reluctantly went about undressing the girl of her tattered clothes. It wasn't like he hadn't seen the naked body before…but he had never undressed a girl before, and a beautiful girl at that. Arthur now had admiration for the monks that were able to stay celebrant for so long—but then again, monks stayed away from prying eyes for most of their lives, and with men on top of that, so where was the temptation in that exactly?

After the girl was stripped of her clothing, Arthur quickly took one of the blankets at the foot of is bed and covered the girl in sake of his will and the girl's own modesty. A brisk knock on the door accompanied by the voice of Lancelot made Arthur bid for his knight to come in. Lancelot entered, followed by three servants carrying large buckets of steaming water. Filling up the large tub set in the corner of the room, the servants filled the tub and left quickly without a word to either men.

"Lancelot give the girl some dignity…turn around." Arthur ordered, he had started to remove the blanket to get the girl in the tub when he realized his second was starring quite transfixed on the catatonic girl in the bed. Lancelot scoffed at the order but finally turned around when he realized that Arthur wasn't kidding. Slipping the girl into his arms, Arthur hastily approached the tub and lowered the girl into the steaming water. For a moment it looked like Lothiriel had actually turned her head to look him directly in the eye, but as she continued to stare, Arthur realized she wasn't really seeing him—he had no clue what she was seeing.

Afraid that the bath oils would irritate her new wounds, Arthur picked up a bar of soap and a washcloth instead. As he continued to scrub gently at the dried blood and scum that covered the body before him, Arthur was quick to realize that something was missing—the wounds from which the blood came from. But what if it wasn't her blood at all? This thought put a stop to the bathing of their prisoner, and as he turned wide eyes to Lancelot, his second approached the tub to see what was wrong.

"This blood can't be hers Lancelot, there are no wounds." Arthur croaked looking at the unblemished skin that was sinking further back into the warm water of the tub. Lancelot looked uneasily for a moment before something seemed to dawn on him, the incident with her hands that felt like years ago.

"There's something I forgot to tell you, something I should have told you immediately. When you ordered Dagonet to see to the wounds on her hand, Dagonet and I were quick to realize the wound that had been there the night before was gone. We questioned the girl about it, but she simply stated it was in her blood for wounds to heal quickly." Lancelot hastily explained, afraid the creature would be charge for murder before he had time to study the girl further for his own needs.

"Yes, but I swore I saw the scrapes and gaping wounds when we were first there. Are you telling me the wounds closed themselves up and healed fully by the time we left the dungeon to now? Do you know how ridiculous you sound Lancelot?" Arthur asked with a suspicious raised eyebrow.

"Do you know how ridiculous it would seem to others to tell them the story of an ethereal looking girl we found in the woods whose body is beheld with pointed ears and speaks in a lyrical language we have no history of?" Lancelot countered back, and it was around this time that the young maiden in the tub seemed to come alive again with heaving breaths that instantly gained the attention of the two brooding men.

"Get me a towel." Arthur muttered as he blushed slightly knowing the girl must be feeling quite the predicament being caught up being nude in front of two full grown men. Arthur snatched the towel away from Lancelot and offered the towel to the maiden. Lothiriel stared up at him for a moment seemingly trying to contemplate what going on her around her before a deep flush of red was swept upon her face and nearly the top of her shoulders. Quickly taking the towel that was offered to her, Lothiriel stood shaking on her two feet as she wrapped the large towel around her.

When she was somewhat covered, Arthur helped her out of the tub and led her to his bed where he pressed her to sit down while Lancelot left once more to find some appropriate clothing as hers were beyond repair at the moment. Pulling up a chair to sit in front of Lothiriel, Arthur contemplated his questions for a moment, before deciding on the best inquiry for the moment at hand.

"What happened to you down there? Are you afraid of the dark or is your magic of no use within stone walls?" Lothiriel's eyes shot up and glared at the Roman commander before she turned her face away truly feeling insulted at still being called a 'spell caster'. The tension in the room grew to an unbearable point that bore pressure on everyone in the room until it was broken with the arrival of Lancelot barring clothes for Lothiriel to wear. Looking pointedly at the two men as the clothes were offered to her, Lothiriel waited for the men to leave, but all they did was stare right back at her.

"I'm not changing in front of you, so please step out into the hall for a moment." Lothiriel stated bluntly as she glared at both Arthur and his loyal Knight Lancelot. Lancelot chuckled as he gave Lothiriel a suggestive looking before scuttling towards the door, but stopped once he realized Arthur hadn't moved from his chair.

"I'm not going to try anything; I just don't want anyone gawking at me when I change." Lothiriel explained once she realized this man wasn't going to move. The only thing Arthur did was stand and turn around, still making no notion that he had any intentions of leaving the room.

Knowing the man had already seen anything Lothiriel's body had to offer, Lothiriel was quick to change before Lancelot was able to peek his head in to see what was keeping his commander. Seeing that Lothiriel was dressed, Lancelot nodded for Arthur and gave the go-ahead for him to turn back around. Arthur smile softly at his mother's old dress that hung beautifully on this stranger's body—given it was a bit on the big side, but if it were fitted for her small frame, it would compliment this beauty quite vividly.

"We have a lot to discuss my Lady, and I'm afraid I will not take no for an answer this time. Leave us Lancelot; I'll call you back in when we're through." Arthur ordered as he heaved a sigh knowing the time of this ridiculous silence this girl was giving in had to end, for both her sake and his own. His thoughts were sinful while he was around her, and one day he was afraid to give into temptation, best to be rid of her as quickly as possible and let his knights pick up the broken pieces. That is if the council would let her be free at all. After Lancelot closed the door to his quarters, Arthur sat back down in his chair and ordered the girl to sit upon the bed once more.

Lothiriel was reluctant, nothing good ever came of being alone in a bedroom with a male mortal, especially one who had the power to render her helpless to his forwardness. Sitting down on the bed with her back as straight as a rod, Lothiriel waited for the interrogation to begin.

"Perhaps we shall start with the most obvious of questions, shall we?" Arthur asked as he crossed his muscular arms across his chest as he tilted his head to the side, appraising her arrogantly as he did so.

"Now, where were you born?"

"I was born in the forest of Lothlórien." Lothiriel replied quickly, knowing all too well that the Roman commander had no recognition of the Golden Wood that was so secret in Middle Earth that a mortal would sooner die than look upon it.

"And where is this Lothlórien?" Arthur asked just as bluntly.

"Why in Middle Earth of course Commander, didn't you learn your Geography in your teachings as a child?" Lothiriel knew she was stepping out of line, and that her scathing words were just begging for discipline, but she couldn't take back what she said now. The Roman Commander's entire body was tense, a frown creasing his lips as his grip upon the hilt of his sword that rested at his side tightened. Perhaps it would be wise to stop the mockery after all.

"How did you come to be in Britain?" Well, at least that wasn't as lame as the last question, given, the answer was certainly going to be.

"I don't know." Lothiriel answered truthfully, running trembling hands through her pale tendrils, trying to compose herself as she thought back to those thirty years when she had fist found her self in another world…alone…captive…scared…unarmed…helpless, and unable to understand anyone around her.

"My lady, if you want any chance at ganging freedom after your trial, I suggest you start telling me the truth." Arthur commanded coldly, his green eyes narrowing as he began to rise from his seat to tower over Lothiriel. This, however, brought back the memories of being imprisoned under the Saxons, and the gruesome nights she was forced to lay with that horrible man…

"How dare you call me a liar? I speak the truth Sire, I have no idea how I came to be in this retched world, and if I had things my own way, I would have never been here to begin with! Do you think I enjoy having to live amongst you mortals? Forced to realize that I'm the only one of my kind here, and no one can help me get home to my kinsmen? Valar, I couldn't even speak the language of your kind when I first arrived! I was scared! I was alone, and I was defenseless!" Lothiriel didn't know when she started crying, only that her mind hand no intent to stop anytime soon once she finished screaming at the commander at the top of her lungs for all it was worth.

"Forgive me my lady, our meeting and everything after all still seems so surreal to me. But please continue, who was it you first encountered upon coming to Britain? Your Latin is still a bit off, but who taught you our tongue in the first place?"

"I didn't come to Britain until I had been in your world for five years. I was captured in the Netherlands by the Saxons that lived near the river I was found in. The leader Fallon became obsessed with my immortality, the fact that I wasn't human—he exploited me, used me, I spent thirty years as his slave, forced to travel and watch as he attacked and destroyed villages while he killed anyone that didn't fit into his plans. It wasn't until we came here that I began to snap, trying to run…kill myself anything…but _he_ wouldn't allow it. I came across Bastien when the Saxons were attacking a village north of here that I knew I had to save him. And I did—I brought him here, and left him with his father. I thought he was going to be alright, but you mortals…you die far too fast and easily. I spent the last ten years looking for a man by the name of Merlin, it is said that he's a sorcerer; I was hoping he'd be able to help me get home. But so far I have had no luck in finding him." Lothiriel whispered her tears finally coming to a stop as she looked miserably into the eyes of the Roman leader.

"You returned right when Bastien was dying, how did you know?" Arthur asked hesitantly, the death of his knight still too fresh on his mind to keep the guilt from his voice.

"I gave Bastien my elfstone, it was to protect him and let me know when his life was in peril. It called to me a week before his death, but I failed Bastien." Lothiriel whispered as she fingered the crystal pendant around her neck, the glow increasing as her fingers brushed against the stone. Arthur stared in awe at the glowing light and reached out to cup the pendant into his hand, taking notice immediately that it resembled an archangel of his own religion. Perhaps the girl in front of him and his own kind's beliefs were not all that different.

"What does your elfstone do?" Arthur asked curiously

"It is a part of me. It marks my gift as an immortal being—at the same time, it is my eyes when I can't see what's in front of me and the dangers I face throughout my life…." And with that opening discussion, the interrogation between the Roman commander and the elf maiden continued on through the night and into the early hours of the morning.

* * *

** As** ordered by his commander, Lancelot stayed outside the door to Arthur's chambers to insure that the Roman Commander would not be disturbed during his interrogation of the prisoner. For the longest of eternities, Lancelot had strained his senses in hope of picking up any of the conversation taking place inside. But alas, the only thing he could hear was the low rumbled questions given by Arthur, not the reply from the questioned subject. Lancelot admitted he was afraid for the lass's life. After the Lords of the Wall would arrive, they would see the inhuman, exotic looks of Lothiriel and be in awe. And because of her appearance, the Lords would surely order to either slay the girl, or ship her off to Rome with an entire military fleet as an escort. There, Lancelot imagined she would go before the Pope himself and face judgment. She would there either be tortured into confession, or kept caged as a showcase for the world to see as Rome's new wonder. Lancelot didn't fancy the idea of either fate. After all, how would he get the chance to woo said maiden if she were gone? He had an internal feeling that he and Lancelot had crossed paths before. If only he could remember, but then—why would the girl lie to him?

Lancelot contemplated his thoughts and feelings for hours, and just as he was beginning to doze off leaning against the wall, the door he was guarding opened, filtering early morning light into the dusky hallway as he did so. Arthur stood, hands on the door's latch and looking exhausted as ever.

"So—how did things go?" Lancelot asked uneasily after a moment of silence between the two friends had passed.

"We need to contact the Lords of the Wall; we must call off the trail for Lothiriel has committed no crime." Arthur's voice was cracked and gruff the extravagantly strong man swayed on his two booted feet looking as if he would fall into a slumber at any given moment. Worried that the girl bewitched him, Lancelot pushed his commander to the side none too gently and entered the room. However, Lancelot let up on the hilt of his sword upon spotting Lothiriel on the bed, her eyes glazed over and her breathing deep, gentle, steady, and asleep.

"There seems to be a lot our world is still blind to, but this young maiden may be the start of some form of enlightenment to come. But for now, I'm getting some sleep." Arthur announced as he took his bedroll used for traveling and unrolled it beside the bed. Lying down still completely clothed aside from his divested armor and weaponry, Arthur arranged his body and began to relax. Lancelot stood unmoving still unsure if he should still be guarding the door, or if he too was excused to seek out some rest.

"Go to sleep Lancelot, I don't want you dead on your feet." Lancelot made no objection as he quickly excused himself from the room. Closing the door as he left Arthur's chambers; Lancelot head off to the direction of his own bed.

* * *

**I updated!!!!! I know "about time!" but yea...I have no excuses, just juggling three stories stupid me**

**But I do hope you enjoyed this chapter and would love your views and comments on it:D**

**Angelique**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

* * *

**Lothiriel** was sitting perched on top of the bed when Arthur returned from his duties that late evening. She was dressed in one of the dresses she had brought with her and was running her fingers through her hair, grooming her self and humming a song Arthur wouldn't even try to identify. The grooming stopped as did the humming after Arthur shut the door, Lothiriel turned ever watchful eyes on the Roman Commander as he walked over to his vanity table and splashed cold water on his sweaty face. Walking around the room, Arthur took off his armor as he went, and hung each piece on its stand. After he was left standing in his tunic, breeches, and boots, he finally stopped and turned his attention to the lovely young lady still sitting on his bed.

"I was able to call off the trail, but do not be surprised if any of the Lords of the wall demand your presence—my protection to you will only stretch so far, my Lady." Arthur spoke politely, approaching Lothiriel with light steps that surprised Lothiriel for a man his size.

"I understand, but may I ask a question?" Lothiriel's voice was gentle, for she was still unsure of her new standing with the commander. After all, who goes from prisoner to guest so quickly?

"Speak it than, you've had no problem speaking your mind before, my Lady." Blushing, Lothiriel looked down at the sheep skinned rug, her fingers clenching together.

"I—I want to know what is to become of me now. Am I free to leave and continue by journey in search of the Woad leader? Am I still a prisoner…of political standing? What are you going to do with me?" Arthur looked down into the blue eyes that glowed eerily before him, but taking the bizarre appearance aside, it wasn't hard to miss the lost look in the young girl's eyes.

"I'm afraid in order for you to get out of the trial, I had to state my claim on you."

"Claim?" Lothiriel whispered uneasily.

"Yes, regardless that you didn't kill one of my knights, you still aided the woads and are in fact trying to search one out personally."

"But I told you why! I told you I have to find my way home!" Lothiriel did not like where this was going.

"Yes, and I could not tell the Lords of the Wall your story, I would have been out of commission immediately. And I will not choose you over my knights, my Lady, that will not happen."

"I'm not asking you to choose me over your knights; I'm asking to be set free!"

"You are under my protection, and as such you are not allowed to leave the wall, not until my service here is finished. When I return to Rome, you may do as you wish, but not until that time." Lothiriel shook her head, she was right; she was still to remain prisoner at the wall.

"And when will that be, when will your service be finished here at the wall?"

"When my knights are free, than so shall you be." With that said, Arthur disappeared out the door leaving an infuriated Lothiriel behind to tear apart the room in a fit of rage.

* * *

**Dressed** in a second hand gown given by one of the Ladies of the wall, Lothiriel walked the marketplace down the street from the room she was given. Her dress was a beautiful green that matched the headscarf wrapped snuggled around her head, hiding her ears from villagers. She had been given money for fabric to make herself some new clothes—new clothes, a phrase she hadn't been allowed to use for years. All the clothing she had in possession was either left behind by caravans, or offered to her out of charity by a group of woads, and Lothiriel had made due with what she had. Stopping at one of the booths, Lothiriel fingered the cheviot wool that had been dyed a deep wine color. She decided on the cheviot wool in various colors of the wine, blues, greens, and one violet. After that, she bought fine creamy colored silk that had come all the way from the Asian countries. After the material was bought, she bought her needle and thread, as well as a few self hygiene materials that included soaps, a brittle ended brush, and some bathing oils. Once all her purchases were made, Lothiriel headed back to her quarters to drop her purchase off before she returned to the marketplace in search of something small to eat until dinner that evening where she would then have to dine with Artorius Castus as agreed.

Lothiriel had been eyeing a booth that specialized in beautifully harvested fruit when she felt a tugging at her dress. Frowning, Lothiriel looked down to meet eye to eye with a beautiful little girl with long red hair and dazzling green blue eyes. Seeing how the human child could be no older than three or four, Lothiriel looked around, trying to pinpoint who the girl belonged to. But the tugging that recommenced on her dress brought her attention back down to the little girl. Swallowing nervously, Lothiriel kneeled down on her hutches so that she was eye to eye with the child, showing the little girl that she had Lothiriel's full attention.

"Yes, little one? Where is your family?" Lothiriel asked gently moving long red tendrils from the girl's face, all the while smiling to show she meant no harm. The child smiled brilliantly, and wrapped her tiny, bony arms around Lothiriel's waist, nearly throwing the elf maiden off balance and to the ground.

"You look just like the portraits." The little girl whispered enthusiastically, her cheeks blushing red in a shy, meek nature. Smiling in return and yet still confused about the human child's statement, all Lothiriel could do was wait for a further explanation, but when the child didn't relent on her grip around the elf's waist and no other worlds left the child's mouth, Lothiriel took the time to ask her question.

"Did you run off by yourself?" Lothiriel questioned, tipping the child's head back so they met eye to eye.

"No—well, yes, but Mumma will understand when she sees you!" The girl replied, her voice earnest and genuine. Lothiriel thought over the child's words as she got to her feet and took the child by the hand.

"Where is your mother, sweetheart?" The child didn't answer, and Lothiriel was getting ready to repeat the question when two boys, no older than eight with the same fiery red locks that matched the little girl's came bounding up to them, their faces identical and matched further with mischievous smiles.

"Papa was right; she does look like an angel." The twin on the right whispered to his twin, all the while he reached out and touched Lothiriel's' hand. Lothiriel didn't know whither to be complimented or harassed at the sudden onslaught of children being thrown at her.

"So are these your brothers?" Lothiriel addressed the little girl, but easily found her answer when the twin on the left nodded his head enthusiastically. "So where are your parents, they must be worried sick about you three."

"Oh no, Mum is working in the Tavern, and Papa is supposed to be watching us, but he fell asleep—again. Dag is watching the others." One of the twins replied with a mischievous smile. Lothiriel couldn't believe this, the Knights under Arthur's command were subdued to child rearing when they weren't fighting, but that was a woman's job. Grinning at the image of the pigheaded Bors changing a child's dirty nappy only made the amusement all the more greater.

"Others, how many of you are there?" Lothiriel asked getting to her feet as the hovering children was coming a little too much for her.

"Well, we have three other older siblings, and three younger ones." Lothiriel blinked, wow, Bors and these children's mother must be quite busy when Bors was off duty.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your parents. You know, you three really shouldn't run off like that, the wall isn't as safe as it seems." Lothiriel chided, but her gentle scolding fell on deaf ears as the children were chattering amongst themselves excitedly, obviously pleased that they were bringing this beautiful woman back to their own home to show to their other siblings. Being dragged by her hands and the bottom of her dress, Lothiriel was half led, half dragged to a fairly large tavern down the road, and around the corner where a fairly large hut where a few children were scattered about laughing and playing. This had to be the place, for as soon as the children spotted Lothiriel they came running like a pack of hyper wolves.

"You are going to be in trouble once Da wakes up." An older girl with mousy brown hair taunted as soon as they reached their group. The twins simultaneously stuck their tongues out at their sister while the little girl that had first spotted her clung tightly to her skirts and hid her face within the fabric. Oh no, this little tot wasn't going to hide behind her! Almost as if he had heard the older girl's promise, the large form of Bors stepped out of the hut carrying in one arm an infant, and the other a toddler.

"Where the hell have you three been?" He grunted out trying not to startle the two children in his arms. Of course that didn't work; the infant that had been sound asleep instantly woke to the harsh sound of its father's voice and began screaming. Lothiriel winced at the sound her overly sensitive ears picked up and hoped that she'd be able to get away as soon as possible because she had things she needed to do, one of course being to find food because she was now ravenous. "Not again…" Bors groaned as he began to bounce the screaming baby that had now set off the toddler into tears. "When is your mother coming home, huh? One, get out here and help me with six and seven!" Lothiriel couldn't help it; she burst out into laughter as soon she heard Bors refer to his children with numbers instead of names, how horrible!

Bors appeared to finally notice her for the first time, and instantly he put on a tight smile unsure as to why their previous prisoner was standing at his doorstep with his children clinging to her.

"What are you doing here, my little bastards bothering you, girl?" Bors asked gruffly, handing over the toddler to a girl probably thirteen or so.

"No, well, I did run into them in the market and I figured I'd bring them back to you." Lothiriel replied gently as she scooped the girl that had first found her out from behind her skirts and into her arms.

"Seven, where the hell have you been?" Bors barked making the little girl wince away and hide her face in Lothiriel's neck. Ugh, why was she always stuck between a rock and a hard place these days?

"I went to look for Mumma, but I found the angel instead, Da." The girl stated meekly.

"Don't worry Da, we found her." One of the twins spoke out.

"Yea, well don't do it again—at least wait until your mother comes back." Bors voice spoke gruffly, still bouncing the screaming baby in his arms. "Will you ever quiet down?" Bors barked at the shrieking child causing Lothiriel's eyes to widen out of fear for the child. Taking a step towards the knight, Bors eyes automatically narrowed on Lothiriel, stilling the elf's movements.

"May I?" Lothiriel asked quietly, setting what she supposed would be Seven on the ground. Bors reluctantly handed the baby off to Lothiriel, still uneasy around the newest prisoner of the wall. Once the infant was in Lothiriel's arms, the child quieted almost immediately, Lothiriel couldn't help the satisfied smile from spreading to her lips as the child curled itself closer to Lothiriel's body. She could tell from looking down into the face that the child in her arms was going to look just like its father, poor dear.

"You didn't kill him did you?" Lothiriel blinked a few times before her eyes narrowed and a slight sneer drew upon her delicate features. Carefully handing the child back to the wild boar of a man, Lothiriel fled from the hut and ran all the way back to her quarters, ignoring the calls of number Seven as she went. She should have known better than to put herself out like that, they were never, ever going to accept her at the Wall, their dim-witted Commander had made sure of that the moment she met the blasted Roman. Hunger forgotten, Lothiriel slammed the door to her room closed and slumped down on her bed…she had to leave, she didn't belong here! She didn't belong anywhere in this world….

Laying down on her bed, Lothiriel faced the window, breathing in the cold, damp breeze that made her shiver involuntarily.

"_I don't want to marry Haldir, he's too old!" A 500 year old Lothiriel whined pitifully as she backed away from her father and the strange elf that stood beside him. Eyes widening, Lothiriel's father, Amroth, angrily reprimanded his daughter about her duty to her family, making the young elf even angrier. _

"_Forgive my daughter, Lord Celeborn, she has the emotional maturity of a dwarf." Eyes widening, Lothiriel didn't stick around and ran from the meeting hall she had been shoved into earlier. She hated it here, she wanted to return home to Mirkwood; she wanted to go home to her mother and her friends, and even her lessons, much to Lothiriel's shock. Storming outside into the main courtyard, Lothiriel plopped herself down on the ground, placed her face into her hands and screamed for all it was worth. She knew she was throwing a fit and she would no doubt be in trouble in the long run, but right now she simply didn't have it in her care._

"_That was pretty funny when you called Halidir old." A boy a few years older than her self, commented from where he sat lounging in the tree above Lothiriel's head. Blinking, she looked up and surveyed the boy that looked like a mini-clone of that man she was to marry. Looking away, Lothiriel scrunched up her body and wrapped her arms around her bended knees, tucking them safely under her chin as she did so. The boy in the tree swung down, landing soundlessly beside her with an amusing grin on his glowing face. "I'm Rúmil_ _by the way, brother number three." _

"_It was no joke, Rúmil, your brother is indeed old." An irritated and distraught Lothiriel stated, her eyes looking up through her bangs at the Lothlórien__elf. _

"_He's not so bad though, I should know; my brother and I live with him." Rúmil commented sadly._

"_Why, why do you live with him? Where are your parents?" Lothiriel whispered as Rúmil sat down beside her, a book in his hand._

"_They died." There was no information like that, just straight to the point, and thankfully Lothiriel was smart enough to not push the boy as he seemed really closed off about the whole topic. Clearing her throat, Lothiriel's eyes wondered down to the book gripped in the boy's hands and smiled as she recognized the book as one appointed to her in one of her history classes._

"_Isn't that text ghastly, it took me ages to read it much less make reason of everything. I honestly don't understand why they make us read that rubbish, everything in that book happened dozens of centuries ago, and who's to say that the book is really all that accurate now?" Lothiriel must have stuck a cord on Rúmil, because one minute he was sitting relatively composed, and the next he was on his feet, back straight and feet apart with a serious look on his face that made Lothiriel blink at the boy as if she were seeing him for the firs time once more._

"_Rúmil, what are you doing out here?" A deep voice called as a beautiful looking man came walking towards the two elflings. He halted slightly at seeing the young elf maiden, and Lothiriel couldn't keep the blush from forming on her face as she recalled this particular elf old not too long ago. "Lothiriel, shouldn't you be with your father right now?" He inquired, one of his eyebrows rising to a sharp arch on his forehead. He seemed so cold, so proper, so structured, Lothiriel hated it. _

"_No, I excused myself from his meeting with your Lord." Lothiriel replied carefully, wondering if her father and Lord Celeborn had already informed Haldir about her fleeing. _

"_Do you always run from your troubles?" Haldir's voice was cold and Lothiriel suddenly felt ashamed for taking off so fast without hearing her father and the Lord of the wood out._

"_I'm still a child, what else is there for me to do?" _

* * *

A/N I know I updated, I'm so proud of myself college is sooooo much work. I plan to update soon, but to be honest, I probably wouldn't expect anything until summer unless I get more motivation :-P


	8. Chapter 8

2 years later…

"Lothiriel, that table in the back needs their stew and ale, and don't forget their bread!" Vanora ordered from where she stood behind the counter refilling pitchers with liquor and bowls with the stew of the evening. Lothiriel threw the dishtowel she had been using to mop up a spill at one of her tables and hurried over to the front counter, dodging hands and bodies as she went.

"I swear, every time Bors and the boys are gone, this place is always in complete chaos. And when they are here, well, it's just organized chaos. But I do admit, I feel safer when the boys are here." Vanora admitted, handing the tray over to Lothiriel. Lothiriel didn't comment on that, she did however turn her head away and roll her eyes. It wasn't that she didn't agree with Vanora, it was still the fact that the Knights were the ones keeping her chained to the damn fort. Fortunately for the young elf maiden, they were on their way to meet the Roman Bishop Germanius, the man that would soon release them from this life, and the man that would in turn be able to set her free as well. Suspicion grew in her mind though, the Roman soldiers had become even more reckless and hostile as the days grew by. They no longer took their positions at the wall seriously; it was like they were out on vacation. They drank, robbed merchants, groped and took women that had no desire for them. Romans were just a bunch of pigs—well, aside from Arthur.

Lothiriel shook her head, now was not the time to think of such things. As soon as the Knights were given their papers when they returned, Lothiriel would be gone on her search for Merlin once more. And if Merlin had died or had been killed during her imprisonment during the last two years, Lothiriel would bring 'Hell' against the Roman Commander.

"Hello Lothiriel, how is the beauty of the fort doing this evening?" Caepio, a Roman general, asked as Lothiriel served out he and his group's food. Lothiriel avoided Caepio's gaze, and instead addressed the group as a whole.

"If you need anything else to drink or eat, just wave me over and I will be here as soon as possible. Have good meal gentlemen," With a nod of her head, Lothiriel disappeared, evading Caepio's hands as she did so. Caepio was a character if there ever was one, he even put Lancelot to the test when it came to the way he treated women like they were toys to be discarded as quickly as they had served their use. For the first year Lancelot would follow Lothiriel around like a lovesick puppy. But eventually, and with many punches, kicks, and slaps from Lothiriel, he finally went back to his old ways in bedding every woman he ever came across—disgusting.

"They're back! Artorious and his knights are back!" A young boy crowed as he ran into the tavern waving his wooden sword about. Lothiriel smiled at Gilly and watched as Vanora let out an ecstatic squeal of delight and all but ran out from behind the front counter and headed towards the main courtyard with dozens of villagers on her heels. Lothiriel rolled her eyes and went back to serving out drinks and dinner to those who stayed behind, ignoring their aggravated huffs of Lothiriel taking so long because she was so shorthanded.

"Can I get a pint over here?" Lothiriel looked up from wiping down the counter in time to see Gawain and Galahad approach with joyous smiles on their faces.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the Great Hall—for your uh—papers?" They had been readying all day for Bishop Germanius.

"Actually, we were told to get our arses out of the room—something is fishy about that man," Lothiriel hummed in agreement even though she had never met the guy, the fact that he was overly religious was enough to making Lothiriel want to run the other way.

"Odd…I thought it was going to be a huge ceremony when you got your papers—they had us preparing for the last three days." Lothiriel confessed

"You and the rest of us," Gawain muttered, reaching out for his drink.

"So are you boys hungry?" Lothiriel asked with her usual forced smile as she turned without prompt to start serving out the strew leftover in the pot. If only they had come a few hours ago for the fresh good stuff. But the two didn't complain and wolfed down their food like ravaging dogs. Lothiriel leaned against the counter for a break as the other 'tavern wenches' were there to serve for the night. She watched Lancelot gambling, Dagonet attending to Bors' children while Bors decided to get drunk. Galahad and Gawain were throwing knives with Roman soldiers, calling them girls as they beat them mercilessly at the task, only to have Tristan beat them with a simple throw that made Lothiriel actually smile. Tristan was probably the only man she truly got along with and understood at the wall. Arthur understood her past, but he seemed to use it against her by holding her hostage there during the knight's servitude to Rome. Tristan, like herself, didn't belong behind walls. They were made to venture out into the wild, scavenge, and witness nature's true beauty as well as the ugly side that came with it. He, like Lothiriel, tried to keep to himself.

"Sorry it took so long—everything run smoothly?" Vanora asked, her latest babe clutched to her chest.

"As smoothly as rush can go without the main Lady of the Tavern's help." Lothiriel stated sarcastically, all the while smiling at the baby cooing up at her from Vanora's arms. Bors had apologized to her a dozen times about the way he had treated her when it came to his kids when she had first been brought to the wall. And often, when he and Dagonet were both gone on missions and Vanora was heavily pregnant, as she often was, Lothiriel would step in and watch her children. Almost out of nowhere, Bors stepped up behind Vanora with an order for her to sing, which she did after a few pushes and prods.

Land of the Bear and  
Land of the Eagle.  
Land that gave us birth  
And blessing,  
Land that pulled us  
Ever homeward.  
We will go home across the mountains,  
We will go home,  
We will go ho-me,  
We will go home.

We will go home singing our song,  
We will go home across the mountains,  
We will go home  
Hear our singing, hear our longing,  
We will go home across the mountains.

Lothiriel hummed along, her eyes tearing up as she thought about the home she would soon be allowed to return to, just as the knights would be free. Lothiriel noticed at the end of the song as Arthur came out with a very grim look on his face that didn't match the joyous feeling that should normally come with finally relieving the men you thought of as brothers to go back to their home country where they could live at peace. No, this was a look that was too old for the Commander's body; it was a look of someone that knew a secret that would kill to tell.

"Arthur!"

"RUS!" Lothiriel rolled her eye at the cattle cry when Arthur's knights started to notice his presence. Bors handed the baby off to her before he skidded passed and joined the rest of the knights.

"This doesn't look good." Vanora admitted as she returned to Lothiriel's side, survey Arthur calculatingly, just like Lothiriel was doing. Unfortunately, with her keen hearing, it took only a few steps forward for Lothiriel to be fully able to hear the conversation going on—and it wasn't a good one.

"Their pact isn't complete—they are to go on another mission." Lothiriel whispered to Vanora, watching sadly as the woman's face heated with anger, thankfully Lothiriel was holding her son as her hands begun to clench and tears appeared in her eyes. Lothiriel couldn't imagine being in Vanora's position. Having nearly a dozen children with a man who is forced to put his life on the line for the last fifteen years, it was something that could weigh heavily on anybody's nerves.

"I'm going to kill him." Vanora hissed as Bors began to make his way back to her. Lothiriel gently passed the child over to Vanora, knowing Vanora would have trouble killing Bors with his child in her arms. Besides, she needed to find Arthur immediately—her future depended on it.

"Arthur!" Lothiriel called when she spotted Arthur and Lancelot talking heatedly to one another in the barn.

"Good, I needed to come and speak with you. You are to pack up your things, you'll be coming with us." Lothiriel blinked dumbly at him—who did he think he was? She hadn't been let outside the walls in two years, and now, all of a sudden she's being ordered to go on a suicide mission with the knights—not bloody likely.

"Pardon?" Lothiriel asked with a raised brow.

"A man that matched your description is being held captive in a cell where we are going. I want you to come in case he doesn't speak the language."

"And what language is that? Yours? Ignorance and stupidity?"

"I have orders to bring back both the prisoner and the Pope's godchild."

"If I go with you it will not be to bring one of my people back as prisoner—we both know this."

"Aye, we do." Arthur smiled. "Which is why once we reach our destination, you may collect your brethren if the prisoner is a—elf. Otherwise, the prisoner will be brought back along with our cavalry." Lothiriel held in the smile that was wanting to overtake her face. For once, Arthur was acting like a true 'Christian'.

"When do we leave?" Lothiriel asked, not hiding her delight.

"Don't be ridiculous—you'll suffer her through this excursion? We know the mission is suicide, and you elect to have her join us?" Lancelot scolded his commander.

"Don't begin to think you may speak for me, Lancelot. If I'm allowed to go on the mission I will go on the mission! If my brethren is there, then its best not to let them remain in the clutches of the Roman citizens—no offense Arthur." Arthur merely shrugged at the tiny insult towards his lineage. And Lancelot was opening his mouth to follow, but Lothiriel simply turned on the heels of her shoes and fled the barn, she had work to do to prepare for tomorrow.

"Glad to be free of your gilded cage?" Lothiriel jumped at the voice as she looked over her shoulder to see Tristan hiding in the shadows, as per usual.

"It wasn't a gilded cage, it was simply a cage." Lothiriel replied bluntly with a raised brow, daring the Sarmatian fighter to object.

"Do you really think it's safe for you to venture across the border? The Woads may have revered you before, but there's an even greater chance they'll think you've turned your colors." Lothiriel grinned at this.

"They revered because of what I was, not because of what I have done. Why should that change now? If anything, I riding with you may even keep you safe." Lothiriel was surprised with her brashness , after all, who was she to say the Woads wouldn't kill her as well? In fact, Lothiriel was slightly dreading it. If she was seen with Arthur and his knights, they probably will think her a turncoat and won't reveal Merlin to her.

"I'm going to go pack; I will see you in the morning, Tristan." Lothriel bid her farewell with less spirit then before.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So I finally found a face to go with my main character Lothiriel. I think she would be a younger, cleaner, more ethereal version of the model Gemma Ward. On a further note, you'll notice that the chapters are quite a bit shorter than the others. Think of it as my way of updating soon. I would really appreciate some input from my readers so review and tell me what you think!

Thanks!

Angelique

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**Chapter 9**

They had been riding from dawn till dusk, and then right through the night. Lothiriel was exhausted, but being out in nature with the forest's trees flying passed her, groaning sleepily their hellos, the creatures whispering into her ear, Lothiriel hadn't felt so alive in the longest time. She road in the middle of the cavalry. She hadn't been trusted to be towards the back just yet as Arthur was still under the impression that she would flee given the chance. Best of all, she had no need for a headdress out in the middle of the woods. It was nice to feel the wind caressing her sensitive ears.

"Come on Arthur, we need to stop—the horses need to rest." Lancelot tried to reason without saying he was about to fall off his horse. Lothiriel smirked, but secretly had to agree, she had to listen to the horses moan and groan for most of the day.

"Yes let's stop, set up camp, and eat!" Bors concurred and after another long passage of moaning and groaning from the horses and the knights, the small fleet of knights, a roman commander, and Lothiriel finally came to a dead halt in a small opening still hidden but thicker clusters of trees. Lothiriel slid off her horse and quietly led Basil to a small pond where the rest of the horses gathered to complain about their riders.

"_If they make me ride another day like that, I'll throw him from my back!_" Arthur's horse rioted while the others instantly agreed. Lothiriel giggled helplessly as she unsaddled Basil and left him alone for the rest of the night. The rest of the knights stopped in what they were doing to watch the female elf walk around trying to get her sleeping pallet together, all the while doubling over and laughing the entire time, looking back over at the horses as she did so.

"What's her problem?" Gawain grunted.

"Maybe the cold is getting to her," Galahad offered.

"The horses are speaking to her." Tristan muttered knowingly from where he sat at the foot of a tree with an apple already in his mouth.

"I thought you were going to catch dinner," Galahad objected as he watched Tristan continuing to eat on his fruit.

"I'll go after the horse get a break." Lothiriel looked curiously at Tristan, maybe the man understood the animals as she did—perhaps not as obvious in their words to the Sarmatian knight, but they were heard nonetheless.

"I'm surprised we haven't had any run-ins with the Woads yet. We are far into their territory." Dagonet commented quietly from where he was setting up rocks to build a pit for a fire. Lothiriel bit her lip against voicing her thoughts, Dagonet was wrong, the Woads had not left her sight from the moment they had crossed the wall. They were far into their territory, and Lothiriel could sense three from where she sat at the moment. She just wondered why they hadn't decided to strike as of yet.

"Don't question it, just be glad they haven't." Lothiriel jumped and spun around to find Lancelot standing right behind her. Raising her brow at the intense gaze he was giving her, Lothiriel turned back around and was laying out her wool blanket when Lancelot threw his pallet down right beside her with barely inches in-between. Giving Lancelot a questioning look, Lothiriel was faced with silence. Unable to hold back a large yawn, Lothiriel all but collapsed to the ground and buried her way beneath the mounds of blankets and skins she had brought with her. She knew as an elf that she didn't really need all the extra layers. But as an Elleth, well, she simply loved the luxury of having them.

"You aren't going to stay up to eat?" Lothiriel answered Lancelot's question with yet another yawn that she simply couldn't contain. Lancelot chuckled and made his way closer to the fire that was now blazing brightly. Lothiriel finally lay down and stared up at the canopy of trees above her and as her eyes glazed over and she finally fell asleep, Lothiriel could have sworn she had seen someone staring back down at her.

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_A two hundred year old (seven) Lothiriel giggles helplessly as she played with her three friends in the meadows outside the forests from her home in Mirkwood. A few feet away a few of the older boys were practicing their archery, trying to seem heroic, serious, and far older than their actual appearance, making the little elleths giggle and taunt them. Lothiriel was gathering flowers from her naneth, mostly lilies and forget-me-nots, her mother's favorite blend. Her best friend, Nelwen, was trying to gain the attention of the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas. _

"_You're so strong Legolas!" Nelwen chirped, and Lothiriel had to laugh as Legolas' ears turned a bright pink as he tried to shrug off and ignore the annoying little girl that was at least one hundred years his junior. _

"_I don't think he's very interested Nelwen." Lothiriel stated sadly, taken back by the angry look her best friend was giving her. _

"_He may not be interested in me, but give it a century or two and he'll be running after me." Nelwen promised before she stormed away, casting her rare red hair over her shoulder as she went. Lothiriel sighed sadly at her friend's predicament before she continued picking the flowers for her naneth. She had just finished picking her bouquet and was running passed the archery targets when she tripped and face planted into the ground. Stunned for a moment, it took a moment for the pain to erupt in her face and she began to cry, watching the blood rush from her nose and down her chin. A handkerchief appeared almost out of nowhere and cupped her chin before gently being pressed to her nose, her head forced back to look up at her helper as she did so. Lothiriel was stunned, there stood the most amazing and beautiful warrior to ever come from Lothlórien and here he was helping her, a nobody, well—a somebody, but a little girl. _

"_Shush, you'll be alright." The man soothed as he used his free hand to wipe the tears that had been streaming from her eyes. "Now why were you running, behind the archery targets no less, you could have been injured, far more injured then you are now—even death may have emerged, my little elleth." _

"_I was going to find my naneth, I picked flowers for her." Lothiriel explained helplessly, her voice muffled by the blood stained cloth. Haldir clucked his tongue at her and they remained silent as a soothing warmth surrounded her nose and finally the blood flow stopped immediately. Haldir seemed stunned for a moment, before a large brilliant smile crossed his usual serious face, and Lothiriel couldn't help but smile back, even though she didn't know why she was smiling in the first place._

"_You are a healer, just like your father." He stated by way of explanation for his joyous attitude._

"_Yes." Lothiriel stated, already knowing she had the ability to heal herself when she needed it. She had even healed her father's horse's leg when her father couldn't even manage that. He could only heal other elves, not other beings like she could, Lothiriel was special, and everyone told her so._

"_You are going to have a blessed life, my little Lothiriel. " Lothiriel scrunched up her face, she wasn't his Lothiriel, she was her mother's and father's. This man was silly. Lothiriel giggled as she was helped to her feet and the two gathered her mother's scattered flowers. "Now," Haldir kneeled down, "What lesson have we learned today?"_

"_Not to run—especially behind archery targets?" Lothiriel offered with a cheeky smile._

"_Yes, not to run. Now go find your naneth." Lothiriel was popped on the bottom and the little elf scattered away. Not knowing that a few hours before that, her father had signed her life away to the man she wouldn't see again for several hundred years._

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Lothiriel shot up from her bed and looked around, her heart racing. It had been months since she had dreamed of her home, and to be honest, she missed those dreams dearly. Even if it meant waking up to heartache to realize she was all alone in this whole other world with perhaps zero chance to every go home again.

Lothiriel bit her lip and laid back down, she had completely forgotten her first encounter with Haldir. She had been such a foolish naive little girl to believe a warrior elf would be interested in an elfling without there being an ulterior motive. He had known from the moment they had met that she would be his wife, and he played it off so easily. Lothiriel should have known then what was going on.

"Can't sleep?" Lothiriel looked at Lancelot, her heart pounding as their faces were merely inches from each other and she could feel his warm breath on her face. Lothiriel didn't look away and kept staring into those dark eyes that were always so tempting, so beckoning. Lancelot leaned in to press his lips gently to hers, the contact lasted barely seconds before Lothiriel pulled away, her fair face flushed in embarrassment and regret.

"I don't want to be another target for you, Lancelot, please don't toy with my heart, it belongs to another."

"Who, Tristan?" Lancelot asked, his voice tight and angry, but he didn't deny she would be just another notch to his belt.

"I was betrothed to someone, since I was a little child. I didn't agree or like it at first, but after a while he grew on me, Haldir is a good man."

"A man you don't know if you'll ever see again." Lancelot countered, his face inching to move in closer, but Lothiriel stopped his movement with a hand to his cheek.

"Lancelot, you are mortal, we can never be together. If we were to bond and I ever gave my love to you or any other mortal—then I will fade away and die with your death, don't do that to me, I'm too young to die." Lancelot looked uncomfortable, but he pressed Lothiriel's hand to his face with his own hand cupping hers.

"So you will spend an entire lifetime without love for the sake of fear of death?"

"I still pray to the Valar that I will return home one day Lancelot. My purity was already taken from me by the Saxons, my will to go home was the only thing keeping me alive, and I am ruined for my soon to be husband. Don't give me anymore reason for him to shame me." Lancelot shook his head, removing himself from Lothiriel's touch. He turned away and even though his breathing deepened, Lothiriel knew the knight wasn't asleep. And her heart ached to know that she had hurt him by rejected him, but it was all the same, she and Lancelot would never be. Besides, Lancelot although passionate and kind, would never be the person she would go for. She still believed that she was a conquest to him, and once he got what he wanted from her body that he would simply move on. Lothiriel couldn't go through that again. Turning onto her other side, Lothiriel surveyed Tristan from beneath hooded eyes. Almost as if he felt her, his eyes opened and their eyes connected. Tristan was someone she would go for, someone she could love, but did he have the ability to love her in return. Haldir, she just needed to focus on Haldir and her return home.

She wondered who exactly was in that prison…


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

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The people of the plantation were oppressed, scared, and above all angry at their situation in life.

This was the first thing Lothiriel noticed as the Roman guards opened the gates for them to enter. Immediately, Arthur hissed for Lothiriel to hide her ears, but it was too late, even with the hood up the guards could still see her glowing aurora and recognized instantly for what it was. Their swords were out and pointed instantly at the girl they now considered an 'enchantress'. Lothiriel remained calm, even though Basil was frantically lurching up on two feet, nearly causing his riding to lose her balance a few times in the processes, nearly sending her to the ground.

"_Calm yourself_!" Lothiriel ordered her stallion, and after a few moments the beast seized his frantic movements.

"Put your swords away, we are here under orders from the Pope, who is the master here?" A stocky man with a balding head emerged and introduced himself quickly as Marius. From the lustful looks he was giving her, in front of his wife no less, Lothiriel decided that she hated the man immediately. Not that she liked him in the first place, this was the man that imprisoned a potential kinsman of hers, so what was to like?

"You bring an enchantress to my home and expect me not to retaliate?"

"I am no enchantress you ignorant fool!" Lothiriel spat, glaring down at the pitiful man with daggers in her eyes.

"Arrest her immediately, and put her with the other one." Before anyone could blink, Lothiriel was off her horse gripping the front of Marius' tunic with one of her knives pressed firmly to his neck.

"You found and imprisoned someone like me, haven't you?" Lothiriel questioned with a deadly trill to her usually gentle voice.

"Yes, its friends got away, unfortunately." Lothiriel's heart soared, there were several of them, had they come to save her or had they merely found this world due to circumstances beyond their control, like herself. Either way, Lothiriel was glad she wasn't alone in this world any longer.

"You will release your prisoner at once or I will stain this land with your blood and anyone else that gets in my way." The promise in her words sent the man quaking in fear and with a nod of his head to his guards; two of them disappeared into what looked like a tomb.

"Follow them and make sure they don't try anything foolish." Arthur ordered Dagonet, Bors, and Gawain. The three men nodded and immediately disappeared into the prison.

"Artorius, call back this frigid bitch and learn how to control your animals!" Surprisingly enough, it wasn't Lothiriel that gave Marius a sharp punch to the mouth, it was Lancelot and Lothiriel couldn't have been prouder of the knight. Lancelot gave her cheek a short, gentle caress before he returned to his position beside Arthur. Marius lay in the snow nursing his bloody nose with a handkerchief when the knights began to emerge, carrying pale blue bodies as they went. Lothiriel sheathed her knife and walked over to the little boy Dagonet was gently placing on a grassy patch that had yet to be covered in the winter's snow.

"Water, I need water immediately!" Dagonet frantically called as he cradled the boy to his body. Lothiriel frantically looked over at the other body, a woman that had seen perhaps twenty winters, but she was nothing like Lothiriel, neither was the boy---where was the prisoner? Lothiriel looked accusingly at Marius and the guards, and was getting ready to unsheathe her sword when Bors finally came out dragging a deathly pale, bruised and battered body behind him. As she drew closer to the two burly forms, Lothiriel nearly felt her legs give out from beneath her—was it possible?

"Rúmil?" Lothiriel whispered as she kneeled down beside the still body that had his eyes closed, never a good sign. Her touch sent a shock through is body and for a second Rúmil's eyes opened a fraction before closing once more. Frowning, Lothiriel swiped the dirt caked hair from his forehead and beckoned him gently with her mind for him to wake, but she was left without any form of response. "Get me some water. Now, get me water immediately!" Lothiriel shouted, removing her cloak to wrap Rúmil up in as tightly as possible. Leaving his side for only a moment, she went and fetched a few more blankets from her saddle. Lothiriel snuggled up to his side, sharing her body heat with the still warrior. Lothiriel ignored the panicked village people as they went to gather their things. The Saxons were coming, and finally they knew the truth about their master and his powerlessness when it came to God and the Church was founded. The other two bodies that were removed from the prison, Lothiriel quickly learned, was a young Woad woman whom Lothiriel had every intention on questioning about her leader, and the son of a defiant serf who had been imprisoned along with his entire family.

"Come, I'll help you put him in the wagon." Dagonet muttered as he and Bors pulled the stiff warrior up and headed towards the wagon the Woad and the boy were being housed in. Lothiriel ignored everyone and crawled right in as soon as Dagonet and Bors were out of the way. Rewrapping herself around Rúmil, Lothiriel put every ounce of power left in her body and sent it shocking into Rúmil's body, making the guard wither around in great spasms that sent tears down Lothiriel's face. It was during this processes that Lothiriel's body could no longer handle it and she passed out from exhaustion.

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"Lothiriel…you need to wake up, we are stopping for the night." Lothiriel's eyes blinked at Dagonet's words. She had been sleeping? How long has she been unconscious? Lothiriel quickly rose from where she laid and looked down at the still sleeping body of Rúmil, his eyes were still closed, but she could see his eyes roaming beneath—surely a good sign that he would wake soon enough. Popping her neck and rolling her shoulders like a hellcat, Lothiriel emerged from the wagon to find everyone setting up their own fire pits. The little boy and the young woman who had been imprisoned were a few wagons down being bathed, something Rúmil would surely need to do as soon as he would rise.

"This is ridiculous; these people are going to get all of us killed." Lancelot grumped from where he sat before a fire, skinning a rabbit while Gawain and Galahad listened intently to his complaining as usual. Lothiriel rolled her eyes, yes the knight was right, saving these people would probably get some of the knights killed, but leaving them to be slaughtered by the Saxons seemed an even worse fate.

"I say we take off in the middle of the knight and leave them to their own doings. We've been protecting them for fifteen years, why should we have to continue to do so when it's not even in our mission?" Gawain agreed readily, while Galahad just sat there, skin taunt on his lips and looking abnormally pale. Lothiriel tutted as she sat down between Lancelot and Galahad, a blanket wrapped tightly around her body. She was freezing, that couldn't be a good sign, maybe her strength had yet to return to her—well, that wasn't a very good sign either.

"You know you wouldn't allow these people to be slaughtered, it's not in your will—I know this and so do you." Lothiriel put her input in, even if all they did was scowl darkly at her comment, Galahad seemed to relax however, it seemed Lothiriel wasn't alone in her beliefs.

"Arthur has taken a great liking to that Woad woman." Dagonet commented as he approached the fire, carrying the little boy with him. Lothiriel smiled gently at the child when he gazed widely at her with a serene expression on his face. Bors noticed this when he followed and had to chuckle, ruffling the boy's mane as he did so.

"Taken a liking—is that what we are calling it?" Lancelot chuckled darkly. "I think she's the real enchantress, isn't that right Lothiriel? You know a lot about bewitching people." That earned Lancelot a painful slap to the back of his head, compliments of Bors who had once said the same thing.

"So how is your friend in there doing? His bruises have faded quite a bit, and his uh—glow seems to be returning too." Dagonet questioned as he sat down, the boy pulled gently into his lap as he did so.

"He is doing well; I imagine he'll be waking soon." Lothiriel commented, accepting a bowl of rabbit and broth from Gawain.

"How do you think your kind keeps showing up? I mean—you are from a different world, right?" Galahad asked uneasily, he never did seem to fully comprehend what Lothiriel was, and what exactly that meant in his outlook on life. To him, she seemed like one of the Goddesses he worshiped.

"How I came to be here still remains a mystery to me. As for Rúmil, I'm not sure if his presence here is coincidental or if he had actually meant to come here. The sack of wine, Marius, at the wall commented that he was one of many to come here, and I can't help but hope it was simply me they had come to collect."

"Well, hopefully they aren't with the Saxons." That earned Lancelot another smack, compliments of Lothiriel.

"You just keep your negative comments to yourself, understand?" Lothiriel snapped as she rose from the circle and headed back to the wagon. Rúmil seemed to still be asleep, but his breathing was off, maybe he had something in his lungs? A puncture? Lothiriel prayed that wasn't the case, she would have no chance of healing him at this time; her body wouldn't be able to handle it. When she reached down to tuck the blankets more securely around the waif like body, Lothiriel found herself snatched around the throat, manhandled to the ground, and held down violently as Rúmil straddled her hips, breathing dangerously with a murderous intent in his eyes.

"Rúmil!" Lothiriel gasped, her face reddening from lack of oxygen. Rúmil continued to pant angrily above her and it took him a moment for realization to dawn on his face, and when it did, Lothiriel was instantly released. "Are you alright?" Lothiriel gasped out as she checked Rúmil over for injuries while he remained stiff and unresponsive. "Rúmil? Are you alright, Rúmil?"

"The darkness—it was so dark, down there—it was everywhere, not a source of light to be found." Rúmil was practically hyperventilating and Lothiriel had to throw open the flaps of the tent to allow the cold fresh air to calm the older elf.

"I know—I know how that feels Rúmil, but you aren't there anymore. You are free, we both are, outside in the fresh air, can you smell it Rúmil? Can you smell the winter outside?" Rúmil nodded his head, his eyes a million miles away. Was Rúmil broken? Did those Romans kill Rúmil's spirit and body? They had better not, or they would have her to answer to. "Stay right here Rúmil, I will get you some food." Rúmil didn't given indication of hearing her, and when she returned a few minutes later with soup and bread, he still hadn't moved from his position in the corner of the wagon, hugging his knees protectively to his chest to make him seem as small as possible.

"I brought you some food; I know you have to be hungry." And he was, he snatched the food from Lothiriel and made a downright pig of himself—given, Lothiriel understood why. When he all but tossed the dishes away when he was done and curled back in on himself, Lothiriel knew she just needed to give him time. And so closing the tarp around the wagon, Lothiriel ordered Bors to stand guard as she disappeared into the woods for a while, unknowingly following the very same footsteps Lancelot had taken moments before.

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**A/N**

I know it's not Haldir, but everyone would have expected him to be the prisoner, so I decided to mix it up a bit. What do you think? Got any favorite elves you would like to see in this story?


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**A/N: I know it has been a while, read & review please-I love your feedback!**

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The wind sent the snow flurries whipping across Lothiriel's already frozen face. The elf pressed on, wanting to forget the troubles that awaited her back at the camp. She didn't know what she was going to do if Rúmil couldn't emerge from his current mental instability. At the moment, he seemed like more a handicap than a help in getting out of here. If she could just get out of him how he got there, and who he had come with—how they got separated, perhaps then she could find away to find her other kinsmen.

"Arthur, don't be foolish—do you really think they aren't going to turn on you the moment the Saxons have been dealt with? And that's only if the Saxons don't desolate us themselves." Lothiriel leaned against a tree as Lancelot berated his commander in arms…what were they going on about now? Arthur was talking too low for Lothiriel to hear, and when the elf moved to get closer, her path was cut off by the Woad that had been taken from Marius' dungeons.

Guinevere looked at her, still looking ill from her treatment underground, but there was strength in her eyes that surpassed even Lothiriel, the elf admired her for that. "How are you fairing?" Lothiriel asked gently, pushing her own troubles to the side for a moment.

"I will live, I promise you that. What I'm wondering is what you are doing out here when you are needed back at camp. Has your kinsmen gained consciousness yet?"

"Yes, but I fear his wounds are more in the mind than in the body." Lothiriel replied sadly, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head against the galling winds.

"I heard his screams…even when no one was in his cell. He sounded tormented, like someone was carving into his skin with a flaming dagger—his screaming would go on for days, and the monks wouldn't even bother to visit him. He was broken before they started putting him through the machines." Lothiriel looked away from the human, not able to bare the other's words. How long had Rúmil been left down there in the dark—it was making Lothiriel sick to think of how much Rúmil had gone through at the hands of those Romans.

"I'm going to return to camp now, would you care to join me in the walk back?" Lothiriel asked, her voice cracking as she changed the subject. She didn't want to think about Rúmil's obvious torment anymore. Guinevere looked at her for a moment, trying to read her mind before she shook her head coming out of her thoughts.

"That's alright, you go on ahead—I think I'm going to stay out for the night, keep an eye out for Saxon scouts." Lothiriel didn't believe one word coming from the Woad's mouth, but she was too tired to put up much of a fight. So nodding her head, Lothiriel began to drag her feet back towards the direction of the camp. Her mind was continuously circling back to Guinevere's words, of Rúmil's screams, of the crazed way Rúmil looked at her back in the wagon when he had been straddling her with his hand wrapped tightly around her neck. Would things ever be the same for Lothiriel, she could never know.

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Lothiriel had been curled up asleep in the wagon, her body wrapped protectively over Rúmil's still healing form, the human child snuggled against her other side when she had been snagged by her hair and dragged from the wagon, crying out in pain as she did so. Dagonet, who had been sleeping outside of the wagon had moved to grab his weapon, but when a knife was held threatening to Lothiriel's throat, her feet barely brushing the ground, he wavered, allowing a few of the Roman soldiers from Marius' estate to disarm the gentle giant. A few of the lingering knights reached for their own weapons when Marius' voice echoed around the camp, chilling Lothiriel to the bone when she realized he was the one holding her in place.

"I have your little bitch, I wouldn't do that. One slip of my hand and I'll slit her throat." The man threatened, his knife biting at her skin when he held the knife closer to her throat. Lothiriel bit her lip, hissing in a breath of air as she fought her body to stay still and not fight like she really wanted to. "I'm going to kill all your little friends, and then I'm going to take you back behind those trees and fuck you within an inch of your life." Marius whispered inside of her ear. Lothiriel's eyes narrowed, her hands clutching at her sides—if the knife weren't pressed so tightly against her throat the man would be dead on the ground at that moment.

"Be smart about this—you don't want to be killing anyone, especially her. Arthur will have your head on a platter." Gawain, ever the smart one, stated brashly from where he and Galahad stood hunched over with swords pointed at their backs.

"Won't I? Artorious will be on his knees by the end of the day begging for death when I'm through with his bloody carcass!" Marius exclaimed, moments later an arrow went through his neck from behind them. Lothiriel felt the dagger at her neck falter, giving her the opportunity to grab the weapon, bend the man's wrist to its snapping point, before she dug the deadly weapon directly into the man's heart, ending his life instantly. Other Roman soldiers were sent to their graves by arrows soaring from the forest, their arrows foreign to Lothiriel, they must belong to the Woads. The Romans were easily defeated and the remaining cowards were on their knees, begging for their lives with their weapons discarded. Lothiriel stayed still from where she had killed their Lord and Master, surveying Arthur as he came through the trees followed closely by Lancelot and Guinevere at his heels. She wondered if they had been out the entire night, and if so—where had they been that kept them away from their responsibilities? Was it not Arthur who decided to take on this many civilians in their large caravan? Lothiriel wondered back to the wagon she had not so nicely been dragged from, and looked at the inhabitants inside. The young boy, Lucan, was being cared for by Bors outside—he was crying, obviously distressed at the fact that he had almost lost his gentle giant. Lothiriel thought it was sweet, the man finally had somebody to live for and take care of—he needed love in his life, even if it didn't come from a woman.

Looking in at Rúmil, she was surprised to see the fellow elf looking right back at her, his eyes filled with clarity for the first time since he had been rescued.

"_Rúmil, how are you feeling_?" Lothiriel asked cautiously, trying to tiptoe into conversation after having a violent encounter with the male elf the night before.

"_Better, thanks to you no doubt, my lady_." Rúmil replied politely as he inclined his head, his hair enclosed in grime coming down in clomps in front of his face at the movement of respect. Lothiriel couldn't hold back her feelings anymore. Letting out a sob she rushed into the arms of her brethren. One of the greatest guardians of the golden wood was quick to accept her into his arms, and he cradled her to his chest like a child allowing Lothiriel to sob her heart out. Knowing she had been strong all this time, she noted that she needed this release, she needed to be comforted, and she needed him. Rúmil rocked their bodies back and forth in the wagon, whispering words of comfort in their native tongue, truly a blessing in its own right.

Rúmil looked Lothiriel in the eye, and for the first time since his rescue, a look of realization dawned on him as tears sprang to his eve clear blue eyes. "_Mithrandir knew you fell into this world—we ever thought we'd actually find you, and alive for that matter. But the people of the wood sensed what we were the moment they surrounded us. It was then we knew that they must have had contact with you for them to realize what we were. They tried to save us from the military men in red—but we were outnumbered. The others got away…at least I hope they got away. If they experienced what I had to endure there is no hope for any of them_." Lothiriel sat rapt at attention through Rúmil's speech. There was one little detail that Lothiriel needed answers to, and quickly before the caravan began to move again.

"_Rúmil, I must know—who came here with you? More importantly, how did you get through_?" Rúmil looked calmly at Lothiriel for a moment, as if he were actually pondering what he was going to say. "_Please, Rúmil, I must know. The humans here are religions, and even more superstitious. You saw what they did to you—imagine if someone of greater authority has intercepted them_."

"_There were eight of us: Mithrandir Elrohir, Elladan, Estel, Haldir, Legolas and myself."_ Lothiriel's heart leapt at the announcement of her betrothed being there though she knew it was dangerous for him to be in this forsaken world. Even then, she still felt less alone, and comforted.

"_So how did you get here?"_

"_Mithrandir—there as this place in the river, a dimension crossing of sorts that must be activated with pure magic. It's still a mystery to everyone how you fell through, but I'm just glad you are safe. When can we get away from the others? If we leave now, the more time we'll have before the Saxons catch up_." So Rúmil too knew of the threat that was hounding the knights—the Woads must have kept them up to par.

"_I imagine we can leave as soon as you are able. Can you make it right now in your condition? No bravado Rúmil, this is no place for false courage and strength_." Rúmil, beneath his layered filth looked offended for a moment.

"_I'm fine to travel Lothiriel, just give me a sword and we'll be able to leave this nightmare behind us._" Lothiriel opened her mouth to reply when the flap to the wagon was thrown open, and an anxious Lancelot appeared. His eyes flickered frantically until his dark gaze rested on Lothiriel. He set aside all manly charm he was known for, and pulled Lothiriel tightly to his armored chest in what many could interpret as an intimate embrace.

"I thought he would kill you—I don't know what I would have done if you—ooaf!" Lancelot was thrown from Lothiriel and out of the wagon's entrance, Rúmil following lethally behind with a knife that had been sheathed in Lothiriel's right boot. Well, he recovered from his injuries, that much was certain to Lothiriel. The Elleth jumped from the wagon when Lancelot hollered out in pain.

"_You do not touch what isn't yours!_" Rúmil spat out, Lancelot stared dumbly at the elf above him, not know a word Rúmil was speaking in Elvish.

"_Rúmil leave him alone—he's a friend._" Lothiriel ordered, afraid of what the Marchwarden's brother would do to the knight if kept untouched.

Rúmil lowered the knife as he rose from Lancelot's body, a mad gleam in his eyes. "_You allow them to touch you so intimately—have you been whoring yourself all this time for survival? Perhaps this rescue was moot, my brother will never bind his life to a common whore of an Elleth_." Lothiriel felt like she had been ducked into icy water, punched in the face, and stabbed in the gut, back, and heart all simultaneously. Rúmil's words affected her so deeply. Flashbacks of imprisonment with the Saxons all those years ago began to resurface—making Lothiriel feel impure, unworthy of her title as an elf. Lothiriel turned away from her friend, hiding her tears as she grabbed her extra cloak from inside the wagon.

All those decades of waiting to be saved by her family, and here her salvation was—who knew the humans of this world would treat her with more kindness than her own brethren. Rúmil didn't come after her; it was all just as well. He would return to the others, to Haldir—and tell them of her 'promiscuity' with men and she would be no longer welcomed home. She would die in this dimension, just like she had fearfully predicted all along. Who knew it would be by the hands of her very people?

Lothiriel found Basil nestling close to Tristan's horse, the black and white stallions a poignant contradiction of each other.

"When do you leave?" Tristan asked, coming up behind her to mount his horse, Lothiriel followed and mounted her own horse as she pondered an answer.

"I'll stick to my word with Arthur, Tristan. I will leave when you have all been lawfully dispatched. When you are free, so shall I be." Perhaps during that time she would have decided where she was going to go, and what she was going to do now that her fate had sealed her to this forsaken world.

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A/N: I know….I'm back (: I had a lot of inspiration with the Lord of the Rings being on television—and then actually starting to read the series, and watching King Arthur and Robin Hood a few times. Inspiration hit head on, and I have a few chapters I can upload after this one. So enjoy, read, review, I promise there's more to come. (Without a year's wait, I promise)


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

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Rúmil was gone, that much was certain once they reached the iced over lake and the citizens riding in the wagons of the caravan were told to get out and spread across the ice to even the weight so the icy sheath wouldn't buckle. Lothiriel didn't know if she could consider herself relieved, surprised, or indifferent at that point. She just felt defeated and lost—she was once more alone in this world with no true future to be seen. Perhaps it was her destiny to die under the control of the Saxons after all. Lothiriel didn't voice this, and the Sarmatian Knights she had grown closer to over the years, the ones who sensed Lothiriel's change didn't say anything either. Basil, her faithful horselord, kept whispering reassurances to her, trying to give her hope and strength, but over the cold winds, it fell on deaf ears. When she dismounted, grabbing her quiver and bow she followed the knights to meet the Saxons as if she were walking to her execution with no sense of life preservation left in her. After all, what did she have to live for when the ones she had loved no longer saw any self-worth in herself? Tears were forming as she took her first aim, the ice cleared of the civilians and the Saxon army clear in sight.

The Saxon archers were the first to release their arrows, but with the wind against them they helplessly were out of range. At the order of their Roman Commander, Lothiriel released three notched arrows into the Saxon Army's direction, hitting three targets straight in the chest, sending them to their icy graves. She felt no emotion as she continued to kill, mechanically loading her bow one right after another. As the ice began to crack and the knights began to fall back, she noticed Dagonet eyeing his axe with their nestled belongings. Lothiriel knew then that the gentle giant was about to do something incredibly stupid.

"Arthur, call your man back now!" Lothiriel ordered when Dagonet took off, grabbing his axe as he flew across the ice at such a speed Lothiriel would think impossible for someone of his magnitude. The archers of the Saxon army were quick to take aim, and began to open fire on Dagonet as he reached the center of the lake. Letting out a scream of rage, Lothiriel grabbed the biggest of the shields available and ran out onto the surface not caring that Lancelot had nearly grabbed her around her neck to stop her. She skidded in front of Dagonet, just as the first arrow punctured the shield, sending her to her knees from the sheer force of the blow. Dagonet looked up in surprise from where he was hammering into the ice.

"You fool; you have a boy waiting for you back there—don't leave him alone in this world. You have something to live for!" Lothiriel screamed at him as he continued to whack away at the ice, causing the first crack to make a real impact, to appear on the ice. The growing fracture on the ice drove straight towards their opposing army, and spread beneath their populous forms.

"Get out of here, you don't belong here!" Lothiriel seemed to be hearing that a lot these days. And so doing something incredibly foolish, she punched the man in the face with the shield she had been holding, sending him to the ground. As if hearing her beckoning within their minds, Bors and Arthur were there, shields raised and ready to protect their backs as they dragged him away.

"Let's go Lothiriel!" Arthur called, but Lothiriel had picked up the axe and had taken up where the gentle giant had left off. "Lothiriel, we need to leave, now!"

"Go, I'll catch up Arthur!" Lothiriel promised, throwing all her weight into hacking the sheet of ice. Arthur didn't wait for Lothiriel. The Commander knew the welfare of his men was too important to be compromised by one civilian. He got Bors and Dagonet out to the safety range just as Lothiriel delivered the blow that sent her into the icy waters.

Lothiriel would have considered fighting her way back through the icy drift…but she didn't. She had been fighting for over half a century, and the Elleth was quite done fighting. Lothiriel was resigned to let fate take her as it sought fit. And if her coming to the halls of Mandos was to be through this icy grave, then let it be so—at least she died a warrior. The current was strong beneath the ice, taking her back towards the valley they had just traveled from. Her chest tightened as the last of her air was released, causing her lungs to burn fitfully as her body tried to fight to survive against her will. Lothiriel's last thoughts before she lost consciousness were that of regret for not giving into Lancelot's advances. Perhaps he was right, maybe she had been sent here for a reason.

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"Lothiriel!" Lancelot screamed, his voice horse as he fought in the arms of Bors, Dagonet, and Arthur—all three men restraining their fellow knight from launching himself into the river, and into an early grave. They had all watched as the ice caved beneath the lithe Elf, Arthur figured she would have popped right back up as fast as she went in. When she didn't emerge, he knew something had happened—perhaps she had injured herself, or the water had iced over too quickly. Or maybe Lothiriel had panicked and she couldn't find her way back to the surface cleared of ice. They stood there as long as they were able to, but when it was clear that the Saxons were getting ready to move on without their fallen brothers, they knew they had to leave and catch up with the caravan. So containing their struggling dark haired knight, Arthur and his knights disappeared from the frozen lake, unaware of the danger they were leaving their fallen companion to.

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Cynric had been irritated when his men insisted on pulling a body from the water knowing everything below the surface was good and dead. He had his father's army to catch up to, and he already knew he had quite the lashing to look forward to when he reached said father. He had failed to kill the knights as well as to take care of the caravan escorting the prominent Roman family back to Hadrian's safe haven.

"She's still breathing," Cynric's head snapped to the side from where some of his men came, one holding a soaked body in his arms. He recognized the girl instantly as the fucking bitch who broke the ice and killed off half of his men. He should kill his men for even considering pulling the girl out—must less putting those thoughts into action. When he got closer to the group of soldiers, he started to understand why his men gave such efforts—the glow emanating form the girl's skin spoke of the legendary enchantress his father had told him about in stories as a boy. It was with trembling hands that Cynric was able to pull back the soaked locks of pale, blonde hair that clung to the girl's face and neck. His efforts weren't for naught, for his actions revealed a long, distinguished pointed ear that confirmed his thoughts.

"Lothiriel," Cynric whispered the girl's name in reverence. Perhaps his father wouldn't be so angry with him when he would arrive. "We leave now, dry her off and put her on my horse. She will ride with me." The man who had been cradling her to his chest wanted to object, but seeing the critical way his leader was eyeing the faire maiden, he was quick to follow orders.

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Cerdic looked up from the bonfire he had been sitting around to see his son approaching with a few men behind him. The older Saxon was quick to note that his son's numbers had dwindled to less than a third since his departure—he truly was an embarrassment. If his wife had blessed him with a daughter, Cerdic could see more hope for his army with a sword in his daughter's hand than with this mistake.

"Stop," Cerdic ordered before his son had the audacity to sit down and share warmth with him and his inner circle of generals. His son stood, stalk still with an indescribable look on his face. "You have failed in your mission, why should I let you join me as an equal when you would be better suited for the outskirts of our camp?" Cerdic asked cynically as he eyed the men that came in, grabbing meat and water wherever offered, the others just collapsing when and wherever they could find room.

"I may have failed the incentives of the mission you sent me to fulfill, Father, but I have brought something of great value to you that will prove my worth as your equal." Cerdic outright laughed at his son's assumptions, his men following his example—his son was a child that needed to face reality, he was a fool. The sooner he was shown the ways of the world, the better.

"Have you now, please Cynric, show me this treasure and prove your worth." Cerdic spoke sarcastically before he took a long drink from his satchel of mead. Cynric nodded, snapping his fingers, a burly man came forth cradling something carefully to his chest, the closer he came the clearer the figure in the arms came to be. Cerdic was left gaping at a form he thought was but a dream from a childhood memory. Standing to his feet, Cerdic dropped his satchel of mead and walked up to the man cradling Lothiriel, his father's greatest treasure—a taboo all his life was now his for the taking. This night certainly could not be better.

"You are forgiven, come take a seat." Cerdic mumbled, not even bothering to face his son as he moved hair from the Faye-like creature's face. The glow—so intoxicating, she smelt as he remembered. Licking his lips, he yanked the unmoving body towards his own, groaning as the warm body met his. "Better than I remembered," Cerdic muttered, "And no Father to put an end to my fun." Cerdic tentatively patted the girl's face, his hits going stronger until the girl in his arms began to stir and gain her own footing. Lothiriel groaned, shaking her head back and forth as she fought to gain surface to the conscious world once more.

Lothiriel took a moment to look at the face above her, a human man that appeared in his early 40's, but well into his prime that accompanied wisdom. A dreadful feeling filled the Elleth when she realized just who was holding her so tightly that her bones ached.

"Cerdic." Lothiriel murmured deliriously, causing joyous laughter to erupt from the Saxon.

"Good, you remember me—and look at you, haven't aged a day. You are still as young and beautiful as you were all those years ago. You know, my father—the fool, never gave up looking for you, not even on his deathbed. And yet here you are in the flesh, finally mine for the taking. Unlike my father, I won't be so lineate with you. Uveri, grab some chains; I want her cuffed and monitored at all times. Welcome home, my one of a kind treasure." The Saxon murmured before forcing a kiss onto Lothiriel's less than willing lips.

"Adar, please—I beg you, help me." Lothiriel whispered reverently as she was placed in shackles and led to a tent that held all the luxuries of a commander, it was all too familiar to her. Her chains were rooted to the ground by an iron stake, the echo of the hammer slamming metal against metal still causing the area behind her eyes to ache.

How was it possible that her day just got preposterously worse?

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A/N: What did I tell you-a quick update! lol so what do you think-expecting the this new twist? Guess who we get to see next chapter? I'll give you a hint, it starts with an H!


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